


Glory in the Light of Hope

by Embrathiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Embrathiel/pseuds/Embrathiel
Summary: What if the road to hell isn't paved with good intentions?  What if our errors raise us higher than we ever thought possible?  After the incident at the ministry, Harry writes a letter to Hermione while she is healing in the hospital, prompting the event that brings them together in a new and deeper way than they had ever hoped to achieve.  While the circumstance robs Harry of his vision, he finds a new strength in his and Hermione's shared love.  His magic compensates over time and Harry develops new ways of interacting with the world, and the cursed prophecy hanging over his head.





	1. Best of Intentions

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling.

Glory in the Light of Hope

By:

Embrathiel

Chapter 1:

Best of Intentions

Dearest Hermione:

Many things have come clear to me in the last few days and it seems as though a veil has been lifted from both my thoughts and emotions. You Hermione, are the center of that change, but you are also the piece I must address last of all in this letter so that my errors may be clear to you. That sounds awful to me, but I believe that only you would truly appreciate the sheer number of crumpled pieces of parchment that are currently hiding the floor from my view as I attempt to put in to words what I should have long ago. I am terrible with words and i am sure that no matter how much I think or change, that will remain the same. I am not sure how well or ill you are, but if someone is reading this to you, then I ask that they please read this in its entirety as while there are important bits that some may consider secrets, I do not consider them so. It’s time to stop hiding from the realities we live with.

When I got back to the castle after the Ministry incident, Dumbledore told me about a prophecy that was made before I was born. Yeah its the one we tried to keep from Tom the tosser. Well, as it happens he heard a bit because some git told it to him. Apparently, if it is to be believed, I am the only one who can defeat his red-eyed spookiness because he tried to do me in, as a result of hearing the prophecy in the first place. Sounds like a bunch of self-fulfilling shite to me. Merlin I need to drop Divination.

The short version is that now that he marked me, I am the only one who can beat him up well enough to send him from this world and in the end it will come to a fight between him and myself. Please don't cry Hermione, I already did my share, and have since decided that while I will do everything I can to stop him, I don't put much stock in prophecies and won't live my life by it.  
See, I'm thinking about things, isn't it great?

Next comes my childhood. After mum and dad died for me, chief whiskers, in his all encompassing senility, decided it was a good idea to send me to live with my relatives and put blood wards, yes, illegal freaking blood wards, over the house to keep me safe. From death eaters, not the Dursleys. They did a lot; we can talk about that later I don't feel like writing about it. I am guessing that if anyone is reading this to you its Madam Pomfrey, in which case, she knows the damage and could tell you if she likes, you have my permission ma'am. I didn't exactly learn much about love from them. I was raised to think that you got beat for everything and that that was what love was.

I met you and Ron, and you were my first friends in the whole world. As a result, I treated you terribly Hermione. My only defense is that I had no clue how to treat a friend because I was still learning what a friend was in the first place.

The next example of a family I had was the Weasleys where I was stuffed full of food and worshiped like some kind of child hero by Ginny. Well, getting beaten for breathing, and being stuffed full of food by someone who for some reason thinks she is your mother, aren't very good examples of what love is.

You, being you Hermione, have already likely figured out where I am going with this, but hear me out.

Sirius was next. I can't even express how happy I was when he asked if I would want to live with him over the summer; and how crushed I was when that opportunity was taken away from me by chief beardy. He tried to love me, I am sure of it, and I know he did, but he was just out of prison with the man hunt still active, while also being imprisoned in his own house. Sirius died for me Hermione. He died in the Department of Mysteries. He came to help us and he died for it. He died fighting and I never got to tell him how much he meant to me. I'm still not ok with it and I shouldn't expect I will be for some time. It did however teach me something.

If you love someone you want them to be healthy, you would die or live for them. If you love someone, you suffer through hell to be there for them.

Hermione, I have had terrible examples in the past but I believe I have realized something about myself that I wouldn't have realized otherwise.

I hate that you were hurt in the DOM. It’s killing me to know you are likely in pain. I would do anything to help you get better. You have always been there with me, regardless of how much of a git I was.

I fought off Tom at the ministry that night. He tried to possess me but I banished him because I realized that I had hope and people I care about. It took a while to realize it but when I got rid of him, I think I got rid of other things as well. Luna said something about it but I can't write what she said because I honestly don't know how to spell all those things. The general idea was though that it got rid of a bunch of compulsion charms and modifying spells. Apparently it also got rid of the curse in my scar, whatever it was. Did you ever wonder why I never really changed much after first year? I think Quirrel with Tommy as a hat, put some spells on my to keep me about the same level. In just a couple days my magic has grown, not a terrible amount, but a fair bit. I feel, well, smarter and a lot less lazy. Hence the actual effort in this.  
What it comes down to though, is that I, I love you Hermione.

I, I don't know what else to say because I don't know how to describe or explain it, but i do. You've always been here, even more than Ron. You support me and help me. You fight with me rather than behind me. You don't treat me any differently than a normal person and for all those things I am grateful.

You likely don't see it, but you are beautiful Hermione. sod Ron for not noticing you are a girl. I noticed, I just, didn't know what to do about it. Maybe you didn't either, but if you wanted to, maybe we could talk about it?

I do also understand that you may be feeling exactly the opposite, so I will understand if you don't want to talk. I understand if you hate me for dragging everyone to London and getting everyone hurt. Especially you. I came by a couple times to visit you, but you were asleep and I don't want to bother you.

I am sorry for everything and hope you can forgive me.

I love you.

Harry

**GITLOH**

Madam Pomfrey finished reading and when she looked up from the parchment, Hermione saw that the woman was crying as well. As she had been placed in a paralytic state in order for her organs to heal properly, Hermione could not move anything but her head. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she couldn't wipe them. Her heart was breaking and it hurt more than the after affects of whatever blasted curse she had been hit with. As if understanding her plight, the matron flicked her wand and the excess tears disappeared. She still wept, but they no longer overwhelmed her eyes.

"Ma'am, please, I need to talk to him. I can't leave him like that." she gasped out.

The older woman dabbed at her own eyes and stood. "Of course dear, I'll send for him now."

Hermione stopped, she had opened her mouth, entirely prepared to beg, but...

"Ma'am?"

"Unlike most of the staff here, I have not forgotten what it means to find reciprocatory love, even at your age." she smiled and raised her wand. "Expecto Patronum! Harry Potter, it appears I have one more thing I need to examine you for, come by the hospital wing as soon as you possibly can." Her winged serpent patronus sprang away and the matron moved off to her office.

God, could Harry actually love her? He was a boy so of course he hadn't noticed, but she had hoped. She thought it was totally obvious, why else would she be friends with Ron, not for his charm clearly. She put up with the cruelty for Harry, Harry who even when influenced by Ron still tried to do the right thing. What else had happened in London? She had only awoken after Neville, Ginny, and Luna had left the hospital wing, Ron having been sent to St Mungo's. Madam Pomfrey had told her that the others were all well however so she need not worry. Upon waking and discovering the letter from Harry, she had demanded that the woman read it to her, either that or she would expect that she be allowed visitors so someone could do it for her. Apparently preferring to suffer embarrassment herself from the potential contents of the letter rather than allow visitors inside, Madame Pomfrey had grudgingly sat down and begun to read.

Would he come soon? Was he in class? Had he been prepared to talk to her when he wrote the letter? Of course not, that's why he put it in a bloody letter after all. Knowing Harry he was likely still terrified of encountering her and was hoping she would still be asleep when he arrived.

Without realizing it, Hermione realized that she must have dozed off as the next thing she knew she was roused by a bell ringing in the office at the end of the ward. The doors were out of her view but she watched Madame Pomfrey hurry over to them and begin to address someone.

"Mr. Potter, good, now get over to this bed, I need to check you out right away."

The curtains were drawn between the bed next to her's and her own, but she heard Harry sit down on it and the soft swishes of a wand.

"Ah, as I thought, your magic levels are all twisted up. Here take this, you will be right as rain in just a moment." Hermione suppressed a giggle when Harry gagged. "Oh dear, take this, quickly. I apologize Mr. Potter, I must be getting old if I am mistaking vials like that. Yes, I'm sure your pupils will, eh, grow back very soon, you just won't be able to see until then. Just rest here until you recover. You have my apologies."

With that, the woman walked off, giving her wand a casual flick, sending the dividing curtains rocketing back against the wall, revealing Harry laying on the nearby bed, eyes entirely white. The poor thing looked terribly confused, well, she could fix that.

"Harry." He jumped and looked even more fearful if that was possible.

"Oh, erm, hi Hermione. How are you feeling?" he asked.

Grinning at his expression she said, "Awful, some git sent me a letter, forgetting that I could hardly be mad at him for something so sweet."

"Oh," he gulped, "so you read it then?"

"Yes Harry. To answer your first question, no I am not mad at you, and yes I do still want to talk to you."

"Ok."

"Harry?"

"Yeah Hermione?"

She rolled her eyes. "Would you please get over here? I'm thirsty and can't move. Help me with my water?"

"Um, I don't o if..."

"Yes you can, just get over here."

"But I can't see."

"Dolt, there's about four steps between the two beds, I think "The Boy Who Lived," will survive a quick stroll."

Grimacing, he swung his legs off the bed and shuffled his feet with his hands out before him. His hands being too high of course, he banged his shin on the bed frame.

"Owch, bugger."

"Language."

"But it hurt."

"So do all the colours in Professor Dumbledore's robes, but you don't hear me griping about it do you?"

He stiffened at the name. Oh dear, some anger there it seemed.

"Ok well, go to your right, there's an end table with a glass of water. Good, now, bring it here, use the other hand to find my mouth so you don't pour it on my face."

Fumbling and blushing, Harry very purposefully reached much higher than he needed to, finding the pillow then trailing down to her head. He was probably paranoid he'd touch her breast or something. Boys. His hand was steady and gentle though as his fingers trailed down her cheek to her lips. She lifted her head just a bit and opened her mouth and Harry lowered the glass to it. He couldn't see, but she looked up in to his solid emerald eyes as she took a gulp. When she had had enough she made a noise in her throat so he'd stop drowning her, unintentionally as it was.

Even without pupils in his eyes, he was handsome, and those eyes. She blushed realizing that she could stare in to them all she wanted right now and he wouldn’t notice a thing. Haltingly he found the table and placed the glass down on it.

“Can I do anything else for you?”

“You can sit down with me and talk.”

He was so cute when he was uncomfortable. He managed it though, thankfully there was enough space at the edge of the bed so he could sit comfortably. Those eyes were facing her blankly and she had to focus and not lose herself.

“Harry, my hand hurts a little, could you uh?” Would he fall for it? Would he do it anyway even if he knew what she was doing?

A tentative hand slid across the covers until he found her arm to trail down. Why couldn’t he just keep doing that? But she needn’t have worried. Harry lifted her hand in his and held it in both of his as he massaged it ever so tenderly.

Was this as close to holding his hand as she was going to get right now? Hermione was determined not to ruin the moment so she didn’t say anything and just lay there enjoying the contact and how his fingers and palms molded her hand between them. Something so simple, and yet her whole body was responding in way too many ways.

He paused when she uttered a nearly inaudible moan at his ministrations.

“Please, don’t…”

Even though he couldn’t see her, he was still facing the general area of her head. She saw the solemnity in his face as he nodded once, his hands beginning to move again. Yeah, it was Ron who was the thick one, Harry had always been the one to understand her.

Tears arose once again and her voice broke as she forced words out past her terror and long-held feelings of inadequacy..

“Your letter, was beautiful Harry. I, I don’t deserve it, but I think I didn’t want to admit it to myself either. You were always the one who understood me, and I guess I didn’t want to lose that. I… I wanted you to notice me, and now that you did…”

Her last word trailed off in a high pained squeak as she succumbed to her pent of fear and loneliness. He did love her. She could see it in his face, feel it in his hands. Yes, he had finally noticed her, and she couldn’t make herself say it. Or maybe it was just that for so long she had thought herself unworthy of his gaze, or touch, or attention. And now, all of him was centered on her. What was a girl as plain and unimpressive as her to do?

She’d expected Harry to look panicked at her tears but he seemed to be calm now for some reason. Letting go with one hand, he fumbled for the corner of the sheets and brought it to where he thought her head was. Smiling at his awkward attempt, he squeezed her hand and set it down by her side. Harry turned so he was more or less half laying down and felt with one hand to find her face, using the sheet cloth to dab at her eyes and cheeks ever so tenderly. It was sweet, and romantic, and everything she wanted. And it was making her cry all the harder for it.

“Its alright, just let it out. Breathe. I’m here with you Mione.” He whispered words to her as his hand slid down her cheek to touch her hair and slide across her curls. He was so close to her, so bloody close and her soul was calling out to him.

“I’ve got you Hermione. It’s okay to cry. Honestly, I’m sorry I was a berk for so long and didn’t realize it.” Even through heavy tremors and tears she couldn’t help but laugh. “But I’m being smart now and I’m here. I’m sorry, but don’t worry, I don’t hate myself or anything. I’m just wishing I’d realized it sooner.”

She was subsiding a little and gently shook her head, just a little so as not to discourage his contact and managed to say, “Oh Harry. Shut up. You’re wonderful and how could you have been expected to see something I was trying to hide in the first place?”

He smiled, the hand moving through her hair softly passing over the curve of her ear. “Yeah well, I’m normally known for spotting tiny gold balls from a distance so you’d think I’d be good at observing thing wouldn’t you?”

He made another tender pass over her face, dabbing gently at her wet cheeks and eye lashes. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a rare catch or any…” The words froze in her mouth as his hands went still. A large frown marred his face and she felt bad for putting it there, but he already knew she was plain.

Leaning closer, his face so near to her’s that her breathing nearly stopped in anticipation. And when Harry spoke, his low tones sent a shiver through her. “Excuse me, but I do hope you are not saying terribly untrue things about my future girlfriend. You wouldn’t do that now would you?”

Now her breath really did stop. It caught somewhere between her thoughts and her lips, and only staring in to his face kept her together.

“Because she is beautiful, and the strongest person I know. And she doesn’t like people telling lies. It’s against the rules you see. I’m sure that one’s in “Hogwarts, a History,” somewhere. She could quote it word for word at you if you’re not careful.”

He really was trying to kill her wasn’t he? His girlfriend? Beautiful? She didn’t care if this hurt her, she was doing it and damn the consequences.

With effort, Hermione raised her head before he could pull away and pressed her lips to his. It wasn’t a very good angle and her neck was already hurting, but even as he seemed stunned, Harry’s hands came up and softly cupped the pack of her head and applied just enough upward lift to take the pressure off her neck muscles. God she loved him.

He wasn’t any better a kisser than she was, and it didn’t matter. Gently lowering her head to the pillow he pulled away just long enough to catch a breath before returning his uncertain lips to her’s, his strong hands cradling her head as if she were the most precious thing he had ever been in contact with. She was sixteen, kissing her best friend of five years, and quite literally, nothing else mattered. She was in heaven, and if getting hurt by that awful spell was what it took to be in this place? Well, she’d just have to take as many curses to the torso as she could handle because this, this was bliss and worth anything in this life she could ever hope to possess.

He lifted his lips from her’s and she had to fight the urge to pursue them. But he stopped just a hair’s breadth away and she couldn’t help it, the words just flowed in and out as she took a breath. “God I love you.”

With each syllable, her lips brushed against his and she felt the heat of her breath as it stopped against his skin. And he was smiling. And she was in love.

“Hermione, I love you too.”

She kissed him again, and this time she let him escape when he sat up, taking her hand in to his again, glowing with obvious joy.

“You have now kissed two crying girls in just a few months, Mr. Potter. You’d best be careful lest you begin earning a reputation.”

He grinned more broadly. “For kissing you whenever you cry? That’s alright with me.”

Hermione’s heart was either going to fly out her mouth or shatter from too much happy.

“You are a git, you know that?”

“Yeah. So, you’ll go out with me then?”

“I only date boys I’m interested in.” She smiled evilly at his worried expression. “You, Mr. Potter, I love. I don’t need to date you. I want to be your girlfriend. I’d try for more than that, but boys don’t really understand the intricacies. No, I don’t need to see how comfortable we are going on Hogsmeade weekends. I already want you beside me. What I want is to be best friends with the boy I love, and his romantic partner as well if he’ll have me.”

“You’re brilliant you know that?”

“Yeah. So you’ll let me in to your personal life and take control of it so I can give you orders and make you do things you don’t want to?”

“Yeah, no.” Now they were both alight with evil smiles and there was nothing that could turn them away from one another. “I don’t do things I don’t want to for you. I already want to do what you tell me. Its been five years nearly, I’d think I’m pretty well trained by this point eh?”

“I can’t even smack you upside the head like you deserve.”

“Nope, especially since I can’t really run or see it coming at this point anyway. Sounds about fair.”

“Dolt.”

“Yes, but I’m your dolt. And you know exactly how to spell it because I’ll be holding the dictionary up for you to read because someone somewhere told me you like reading or something.”

“I hate you.”

“Good, pretty sure that’s love then right?”

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. Yes, this boy was perfect. For her at least.

“Love is hate, hate is love. It’s all the same anyway. Now kiss me again so I stop wanting to smack you.”

He obliged her happily. And when Madam Pomfrey returned a quarter of an hour later, they were sitting together with stupid grins on their faces.

“Good then, now I hope you have figured yourselves out so I can check on my patient?”

Harry smiled and turned to face her, missing the horrorstruck look on her face. “Yeah, thanks Ma’am. She’s all your’s.”

“Mr. Potter, you did, swallow, that second potion I gave you right?”

He frowned at her obviously concerned tone and Hermione’s heart began to descend from the high it had been on.

“Yes of course. What’s wrong?”

“Let me check first.” Her wand was a whirl, but her movements were more anxious than Hermione had ever seen them. When finally she stopped, the matron dropped her wand and stepped back. “I’m, Merlin, I’m so sorry Mr. Potter. I…”

He stood up and stepped toward the woman, extending a hand toward the ground until he found the fallen wand. He held it out blindly before him, face turning to the sound of the woman’s gasps. “Here. Please, its alright, just tell me what happened.”

He found the woman and pressed her wand back in to her hands before returning to Hermione’s side, one hand holding her’s and the other stroking her cheek and hair.

“I’m, I’m so sorry. That potion normally only lasts two minutes at most. It’s used to adjust the pupil size of patients who have had minor eye damage. I’ve never seen. It’s not supposed to last you see. I just, I just wanted to help.”

“Harry was frowning but he still spoke kindly. “Honestly, it’s alright. You did help. Now, is there anything we can do about it?”

The poor woman shook her head, her own tears falling, Hermione’s hope for the future with them. “There isn’t. I’m sorry. Vision is the one thing we have trouble fixing. Haven’t you noticed how wizards and witches use glasses and monocles? The eyes are so delicate we don’t have any solutions for them. They seem to be the one thing magic can’t just fix. But this still shouldn’t have happened. Minor eye damage like from bright light, that’s what that potion was for. This though. It’s not supposed to last, and once the magic from the potion fades, which it has, there’s nothing I can do. Merlin, I’m so sorry. I’ve broken my oath. I’ve blinded a student. I’ve blinded Harry Po…”

He raised a hand and spoke loud enough to stop her, his other hand halting its motion to cup her cheek. She turned in to his hand, gently kissing the side of his thumb as he spoke.

“Stop! Yes, you messed up, but you know what, you had an honest motive. I don’t think I’m dead or in pain or anything so as far as I’m concerned, you did nothing wrong okay? And yeah, it’s a lot and I’ll have things to learn, especially how to make blind jokes at Tommy, but really?” He turned to face Hermione, the smile returning to his lips. “I have everything I ever need to see, right here.”

Harry’s hand caressed her cheek and she stared at him, madam Pomfrey falling silent as she too watched him. He was possibly blind for life, with Voldemort after him, and all he cared about was…

“Yes, you Hermione. You are all I need to see. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and as long as I can touch your face, and your hair, and your hands, well, that’s enough for me. Just, remind me I said that when I’m upset later okay?”

Hermione noticed that her mouth was open when he tapped a finger across her open lips with a smile.

“So,” she managed, “You’ll want to do everything I tell you?”

He roared with laughter that should have been impossible. Through it she barely hear the older woman stomping off with the words, “Lovestruck puppy,” muttered between her teeth.

She most certainly would be happy to remind him that he had said that, how could she forget?

**GITLOH**

*Chapter Updated: 2nd December, 2018

Elise


	2. Plans

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 2:

Plans

He came back to consciousness the morning after his discussion with Hermione, not sure if he really was awake. Everything felt real and he could feel Hermione’s prone form beside him. The trouble was his vision.

Having gone to bed seeing blackness, waking up to no visual input to speak of was disconcerting. Madam Pomfrey, during further and extensive guilty apologies had informed him that because of his magic, Harry’s body would cut out the effort of trying to see in the first place. It did after all use loads of energy, so he had expected blackness permanently. He had not expected emptiness, void.

Harry had never been able to see through the back of his head; not because it was too thick, but as everyone knew, you just couldn’t. There wasn’t blackness behind you, there just wasn’t input. Void. And that was everything at the moment. At first he panicked, but once he forced himself to run through yesterday’s events in his mind, he was able to center himself on one key fact.

Hermione, sweet, brilliant, wonderful Hermione, was his girlfriend. And they loved each other. So what did loss of vision matter compared to that? Simple, it didn’t. He knew he had a lot to learn in able to be a functional individual again, never mind finding a way to get rid of Tom; but he knew that Hermione would be there with him through it all. That alone was more than he could have ever hoped for. Harry could take on the world with her there. She made him feel unstoppable, good, and deserving of love. She was a wonder and he was the luckiest bloke to have in the world to have her beside him.

Slowly, so as not to wake her, Harry turned about so Hermione was against his front and reached up to run his fingers through her curls. He could hear hermione’s quiet breathing, a sound that touched his heart like he never would have thought. A sound that meant she was alive, at peace, safe. It made him want to wrap himself about her and let go only when death took him. He wanted her to be safe, and yet, she made him feel so, amazingly, incredibly. Her steady presence beside him for the past five years was more powerful to him than he could tell her. But oh how he wished he could find the words.

So instead of waking her and fumbling for words he did not understand, Harry explored his newly paramount sense of touch by analyzing her hair. He had seen it, and after all this time he could picture her with no trouble, but seeing and feeling were clearly different. It was one thing to look at a person’s hair, but as his fingers reverently passed through the intertwined curls, he found a map, a map created by her body, one that was unique only to Hermione. Waves flowed in to ringlets; snarls, delicate but strong; and beside it all, her cheek, her ear. As fine and intricate as her chestnut curls were to his unrefined sense, her skin was a miracle. How could something that was seen by everyone, burnt in the light of the sun, bathed in water, and seen as mundane and common; how could it be so impossibly precious. Warmth radiated from a texture softer than silk. As soft as her heart, her soul, her love. Her kindness.

And Harry found himself beginning to cry, hot droplets rolling down his cheeks, leaving behind cooling trails of fading moisture. It reminded him of her tears the day before, like a rain over dying flowers, heart-wrenching and scented. The taste of salt had never been so prominent to him and he had breathed in things he had never understood were available to him, the smell of salt, the air she breathed. Her word were warm and made of air, impossible to catch, and equally difficult to forget.

This world had light to see by, and he would neither forget or discount it. Yet Harry was finding that there was an entire spectrum he had been missing out on.

And this beauty, this angel given to his life, was not going to be around him for two months while he festered at the Dursleys’.

They had given him the sun, and said he could not look upon it again until after staring in to a murky hole filled with crawling fiends.

So he found he could not stop the silent tears, the short breaths, the tremble in his hands and heart.

Harry felt it when she woke. A soft relaxation of the body, as if her muscles were relieved at their release. It had happened as madam Pomfrey had said, the binding on her body would release upon her beginning to wake. Harry froze, hearing a soft click as her eyes opened and knowing she was going to see that he had been crying.. Did he even need to care with her?

Her warm hand touched his cheek and brushed away the tears still on his cheek, and her sleepy voice made it all better.

“I’m not leaving you this summer, love.. You don’t need to cry.. You’re staying with me.”

He fell in to her arms, fresh tears rising forth in parody of her release from yesterday. How could he ever worry about crying before her?. And she couldn’t know that could she?. How could she make it work?. Dumbledore always made him go to the Dursleys’ for the summer.. But for once it was okay to let her be right, regardless of prior knowledge.. It was okay to not worry about the truth of matters and instead make her words as true as the proclamations of the universe. She was his angel, so why shouldn’t she be right?

“I love you Harry.” She said, clinging to him tightly, gently rocking him. And he let that fear he had been ignoring out. He let his worries about Voldemort free. He let it all go and just lived and wept in her arms. And when she began to cry with him, it felt like she was matching him, knowing exactly what was breaking him down, and accepting it as part of her self, part of her journey as well. If she was part of his life, then no one had it better than him.

**GITLOH**

He was so strong, and yet so broken, so fragile from all that had happened to him in his life. He was her savior, her hero, her best friend, her darling. She wanted to shelter him and sing his praises. If she had anything to say about it, no one would be hurting him ever again, least of all those closest to him.

She had known, seeing his tears, that he wasn’t only afraid of the changes he had in store, but more their inevitable separation for the summer. Hermione couldn’t even imagine how awful his summer would be if he had had to endure it alone with those relatives of his. In this state, so alone and afraid. Harry was her’s and no one was going to make him feel alone again. At least she could hold him now. All day yesterday she had wanted to touch him, embrace him, and now she could. They weren’t separating the two of them for any reason.

“Oh good, you’re awake…” Madam Pomfrey who had just bustled over and paused, seeing their mutual tears. “I’ll come back in a bit then.”

Hermione shook her head and called to her retreating back, “Its alright. You can scan me or whatever you have to do. I think we just need each other right now though if that’s okay?”

Looking only slightly uncomfortable, the healer approached and cast her spells. “You may of course. I’ll have the elves bring up breakfast fore you both in a bit.”

The bell at the door rang, shocking them all to stillness. Madame Pomfrey hurried off and Harry wiped away his tears, rising to a sitting position but not releasing her hand.

“I don’t know if this is the best time headmaster.”

“Oh I’ll only be a moment, I wanted to check on Ms. Granger now that she’s doing a bit better.”

“They are just about to eat breakfast.”

“Ah, good then, we can dine together.”

The two adults came in to view, madam Pomfrey clearly flustered and the headmaster looking rather pleased with himself. He saw Harry and cocked his head.

“Mr. Potter, are you alright? Your eyes are very green.”

She felt Harry’s hand tense. “Uh, yeah sir, I’m alright, just learning the consequences of trying out new spells, you know.”

Dumbledore looked grim as he nodded. “Ah yes, youthful mistakes. Just as long as your eyes get back to normal soon.”

“Uh yeah, well I don’t think they will sir.”

“Oh? Is that true Poppy?”

“Yes headmaster in fact…”

“She tried to fix it already sir, but I messed up badly this time. I don’t think I’ll be able to see again. I shouldn’t have been playing about. Hermione’s told me better several times.”

“You mean to tell me you are blind my boy?”

“Yes, quite.”

The older man stared, the seriousness of the matter seeming to flood in. No it wasn’t a joke after all, nor was it a simple error. Hermione could almost see the man’s entire world coming down around him. Harry had mentioned in his letter about the prophecy saying he was the savior. The headmaster was likely wondering how any of them were going to survive.

When Harry turned his head to scratch at the back of his neck, she could’ve sworn she saw a satisfied smirk on his lips. For once she was proud of him for being vindictive. She liked his particular brand of adorable evil. As long as he didn’t break any rules in the process.

“Poppy, are you sure there is nothing you can do?”

“Well I…”

Harry interjected again, probably trying to keep her from admitting it was her fault. “Have been trying repeatedly to fix my mistake, but it’s just not working. Sorry sir, but I think I’m just going to have loads relearning to to do.”

Dumbledore seemed in a haze, and likely was as he looked between the three of them, hopelessly.

“Oh, professor Dumbledore, I had a question for you.” If she didn’t ask now, she might not get another chance, and perhaps if he was distracted it might work in her favor.

“Yes Ms. Granger?” Unseeing eyes staring in her vague direction. Rather ironic considering there was an actual blind man sitting next to her.

“Well, seeing as Harry’s blind now,” Flinch. “I was thinking that it might be better for him to be with people who actually care about him,” Flinch. “and are medical professionals with the connections needed to help him over the summer. I was thinking it would be better if he came to stay with me for break so we can get him ready for the fall semester.” When the man only continued to stare at her she added, “Unless you believe that his relatives have more interest in actually helping him?”

He shook his head. “I agree, but we have to be sure Harry is safe. My boy I must insist that you return to…”

“No.”

“But…”

“I don’t have any interest in getting beaten when I can’t even see where the hell it is coming from.”

“I don’t…”

“We’ve already talked about this sir. But now I have a damn good reason not to deal with their shite anymore.”

She couldn’t help it, her words slipped out before she could even hold them in. “Language Harry.”

His head snapped about to look at her. The stern expression trembled, then cracked as he laughed heartily. The next thing she knew, his lips had found her’s and the kiss that took her breath away was imperfect and fraught with trembling lips that attempted to hold laughter inside.

Don’t stop, please don’t stop.

But he did, and whispered to her as he pulled away, “Don’t you dare ever change, you hear me?”

Hermione nodded, only realizing that he wouldn’t see it after he had straightened, turning back to the adults. The matron was smiling wistfully and Dumbledore was frowning.

“Look sir, I get it, you did explain and some of your reasons were half-way decent. But I can’t go back there like this, it’s asking for trouble. I’ll be safe at Hermione’s. Besides, couldn’t wards always be installed there as well?”

“Ah, yes, but I…” The poor old man didn’t seem to know what to do with defeat so he shook himself, waving a hand as if to clear the air. “As you say. You may go for the summer. I will see what I can do about protections.” He walked off, uncharacteristically failing to give his goodbyes.

Had they actually just won that argument? She had hoped, but the headmaster was known for his ability to make verbal interactions work in his favor. They had done it, with a mix of surprise, teamwork, and lack of respect.

Hermione cringed. If she was disrespecting professors now, what was going to be the case in a year or two? Was her sweet Harry finally corrupting her?

As the infirmary doors closed madam Pomfrey turned glaring eyes on Harry.

“Mr. Potter. I won’t have you lying to cover for my mistakes.”

“Oh, and when the entire magical world wants you dead for turning their precious savior blind?”

“Well I…”

“Would either go to Azkaban or worse, not that there really is much worse. Look ma’am, we all bugger things up once and a while.”

“Language.” Couldn’t help it.

“But that doesn’t ruin all the good things we’ve done. Your whole life has been helping people. I couldn’t condemn you for helping us figure out we needed to be together.”

“You, not us, I already knew.” Still couldn’t help it.

“So just look at it for what it was, a mistake. Everything is going to be okay. And know that if guilt gets the better of you and I find out you’ve told someone because you started snogging dementors, well, I’ll just feel terrible for letting it happen and do the same thing.”

“No you won’t. I kiss better than they do.” She really didn’t know how to not interrupt him.

The older woman smiled at Harry, respect shining in her expression. “You have my word Mr. Potter, and I thank you for your forgiveness. I’ll let you two be for a few and check in after breakfast. She can move, but should not stand up, so don’t hurt her too much or it will take longer to fix.”

She walked away leaving Hermione to grin childishly at Harry’s narrowed eyes.

“Think you’re funny do you?”

“Yup.”

“You’re not usually this playful.” It was said with a pleased look, appreciation and wonder in his voice. She could see the love in his body language. “I rather like it.”

“Good because…”

Her response dissolved in to shrieks and giggles as he loomed over her, tickling and cruelly taking advantage of her laying down. She supposed her playfulness was a somewhat new characteristic, contrary to her quiet and commanding persona on a normal basis. He just, he made her feel alive, like she actually was sixteen and not in her twenties like she often felt. Around Harry, it was okay to be Hermione Granger, there was no need to hide any of who she was.

When he allowed her to come up for air, she pulled him down again and made him kiss her to make up for it. He was her oxygen in a way, yes, it was much better just breathing him in then common and dull air.

They were jolted out of their moment by a throat clearing very nearby. Harry sprang up off her, looking like a guilty child. Hermione laughed and smiled up at Neville and Luna who were standing beside the bed looking pleased with themselves. And they had breakfast.

“Hi you two, how’d you get in without the bell ringing?”

“It did.” Neville said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Not our fault you two were dead to the world. Congratulations then I suppose?”

Harry’s head was cocked to the side and he seemed confused about something.

“Neville?” He asked seeming lost.

“Yeah, hey mate, uh wow, what’d you do to yourself this time?”

Harry chuckled. “I was so eager to date her that I sold my vision to the devil of the infirmary as a trade.”

“I heard that Potter!”

They all laughed then Harry prompted, “Hermione said two, who else is there?”

And instantly she felt awful. Why hadn’t she just said names? She’d forgotten already and it had left him entirely confused.

“HI Harry, it’s Luna. Look at the blind side, now you see as well as I do.”

Harry snorted, squeezing Hermione’s hand as if he knew she was feeling bad. “Yeah well, it’ll take some time to get used to, but it was worth it.”

“Yeah mate? Most people don’t sacrifice their vision to a demon just to get a girl.”

“I heard that Longbottom! Just because my potions taste like ash and hellfire doesn’t mean you have to keep referring to me as some evil creature!”

She never would have thought that the matron had a sense of humor. Perhaps she was just happy about them getting together?

“Anyway, you are right Neville, he shouldn’t have given up something so valuable for me, but I’ll take him anyway. At least now I don’t have to worry about wearing make up or anything.”

“Yeah but now if you get a cold he’s going to think you’re someone else.”

“I’m right her you know.” Harry piped in. “Besides, I smell food and we’re very hungry from all the, uh, talking and stuff.”

“Oh is that what you’re calling it now? Neville told me it was called tonsil tennis. “You should know better Mr. Longbottom so I don’t confuse people when they ask what we’re up to.”

It took a few seconds for everyone to get exactly what she was saying. At which point Neville’s face and neck went florescent red and he gaped at the shorter girl, entirely lost for words.

“Oh boy, now you don’t want to drool on Harry’s food do you? I think Hermione’s is the only…”

“Ahem, thanks for the food guys.” Harry managed to get out through suppressed laughter.

“Yeah, let’s eat before anyone dies of embarrassment.”

So they ate together, finally having a chance to process all that had happened at the ministry. She sat up, with Harry’s help against a backdrop of pillows and ate from a tray on her lap. Harry used the bedside table for his plate, close enough that Hermione could reach over to help if he needed it. She could see frustration in Harry’s face as he tried to be involved in the conversation, and still learn how to eat his food in his new darkness. To his credit he never complained. By the end of his meal had figured out that he could use his knife to keep his food from falling off the plate and to better know where it was. Yes, he would learn, and whether he became frustrated or not, Hermione wouldn’t let him go through it alone.

The others filled her in on all she had missed and Harry, having been the only one to see it, described the duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore with awe. Hearing him describe it as if the elements themselves had followed the bidding of the two sorcerers, Hermione began screaming inside that it wasn’t fair. How could he be expected to go against titans of the magical world like that? How was he supposed to be expected to lead the charge against Voldemort? If that prophecy hadn’t already been broken, she would have smashed it herself out of spite. Well if anything happened to him, damnit it was going to happen to her too. They would share a fate, regardless of what it was.

Harry paused after the description of the duel, then seeming to strengthen himself by an unseeing glance in Hermione’s direction, he told them of the prophecy. He told them of how it could have been him or Neville. He told them how the headmaster didn’t want anyone to know. And he told them how someone had betrayed them, telling the first part of the prophecy to Voldemort, leaving him to determine which of the boys he wanted to kill.

“Doesn’t matter.” Neville choked out, his posture straightening as he managed to wrestle control of the words. “Id doesn’t matter because we’re all going to get rid of him together. Who cares what some prophecy says. No one has to do this alone.”

Harry just stared at him, and in that moment Hermione realized how alone Harry must have felt, to think he had to be the only one to do it. He had only ever gotten help from her and Ron, and this year from the others as well. But it had always been known that Harry and Voldemort were enemies and everyone else was fodder.

She reached out and took his hand in her’s. “He’s right you know. We’re not going to leave you to figure it out alone.”

“But I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

He squawked when she dug her nails in to the tender skin on the back of his hand. “How dare you think we can’t handle it with you.” Hermione pulled him closer to her, toppling him on top of her as she spoke through clenched teeth. “None of us would ever leave you to fight alone, and we are all as capable of taking what comes as you are. And if you think I’m going to let you get hurt without me being there beside you…”

Words abandoned her. But she was still frustrated so she pulled him closer and kissed him quickly and roughly, punctuating each words with an aggressive kiss.

“You. Are. Not. Alone.”

She tried not to cry, she really did. His fatalistic attitude about his own doom was going to be the death of her.

His gentle fingers slipped between them and pressed against her lips. It was a struggle not to bite them. But when he took her in to his arms and rocked her so slightly in his arms, her heart attempted to soar and break at the same time. Why did love have to be so painful. Through the haze of tears she noticed with affectionate appreciation that the other two had struck up a conversation, giving them the time they needed to themselves. When were they going to have a crying free day? For now though it was alright because at least they could hold one another until all was well.

When she was calm again, Harry extracted himself from her arms and took her hands in his agin. When he spoke, he directed it both to her and their friends beside them.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I think I’m just so used to thinking it had to be me to do things. When you have Voldemort always trying to set up dates where he can kill you, it’s kind of hard to think it will ever be different. I’ll be better about it though, I promise.”

Excusing his terrible attempt at humor, she forgave him.

Their discussion continued until it clicked in her brain that she would have a project to work on.

“Ooh, Harry, I can make you a white cane. It’ll be great, maybe we can add runes to it to make it last longer and maybe it will be more like a staff.”

She jabbered on, but words failed her again when he asked the simple question, without even a hint of a smile on his face, because apparently he was good at being a prat.

“Can I hit people with it?”

**GITLOH**

*Chapter Updated: 2nd December, 2018

Elise


	3. A Whacking Stick?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 3:

A Whacking Stick?

It was final, her boyfriend was a dolt. Neville and Luna had found a nice straight branch for her to play with, and with madam Pomfrey’s permission, Hermione had sat in her bed, carving runes and enchanting the thing. Most importantly it was supposed to be white and uniformly straight, or at least that was the colour most blind people she had seen used. She hadn’t let Harry touch it before she was done. The reasoning she gave him was because she was carving runes, and until they were ready, touching them could ruin the magic. The actual reason was because she didn’t want him swinging the thing around just yet.

Once she had enchanted it to be unbreakable and impervious to damage by water or fire, she came up with a rather ingenious plan. It took a while to get the runes right but when she was done, the cane was essentially telescopic. If you held it by the handle and sent a flicker of magic in to it, the remainder of the cane would shrink in a way that looked like it was going in to itself. The process was equally reversed. And she just hoped he wouldn’t find idiotic ways to abuse his new power.

She needn’t have worried, for the moment Neville and Luna entered the wing, Harry stepped out in to their path declaring, “You shalt not harm the injured princess! Fear my whacking stick and tremble!”

And he pulled the cane from his pocket while it extended, as if he was drawing a sword. Then with his new weapon he struck a pitiful attempt at a warrior’s pose.

The pain and sound of a smack processed in her brain before she even realized she had relocated her palm to the apparently more appropriate location of her forehead.

“Boys.”

At least he hadn’t taken anyone’s eye out or anything. Yet.

Thankfully while they were laughing they were distracted enough that Harry didn’t notice madam Pomfrey come up behind him. She took his new cane away and lightly rapped him on the head with it before handing it over to Hermione.

“No whacking sticks in the hospital wing.”

God Hermione loved that woman. She understood the horror of boys. She couldn’t understand why no one else appreciated madam Pomfrey for the wonder she was.

**GITLOH**

Harry was glad to be able to spend the remainder of term in the hospital wing. Not only for the time to relearn his most basic skills, but for the freedom from the stares. After the ministry, and of course the subsequent article that had been written about the entire incident, his fame was even more pronounced because of course not only was he Harry Potter; he was also now apparently the ringleader of the newly dubbed Death Munchers. Apparently that was funny and apparently he and his five comrades in arms were supposed to take down the dark lord all on their own. Idiots.

Needless to say, a short stint in the domain of disgustingly downed draughts was welcome in this instance. But before long the calm was over and it was time to return to the real world with his whacking stick along for the ride.

The train ride home wouldn’t have been the same without a visit from Draco Malfoy. It did feel strange though for Ron not to be there, but hopefully he would recover soon and write. Harry, Hermione, Luna and Neville had a compartment that was being routinely assaulted by people wanting to see the amazingly blind Harry Potter, because naturally news spread like the plague. Besides, even if someone hadn’t told everyone, it was rather hard to miss Harry walking arm in arm with Hermione while holding a white stick. Yeah, loads of their classmates were thick, but not that thick. The young Malfoy of course thought it an opportune time to be more confrontational than usual since his primary target seemed weaker than ever.

“Well well well, look what we have here. You know scar head, it is well known amongst the civilized families that if you spend all your days staring at a mud-blood, you could go blind. At least now we have actual proof.”

Harry, already strained from everyone focusing so much attention on him wasn’t having any of it. Knowing there was no way he could aim properly he instead used a different tactic. His wand came out in a flash, a cry of “Protego!” and a shield charm burst to life before him. The only difference was that he was leaping through the air at Malfoy as he did so.

This new and admittedly rather childish determination to harm his foe created a battering ram out of a charm which had initially been intended to be a stationary defense. Had it merely been a wall of magic, it would have hit Draco, Crabbe and Coyle with the same force as Harry moved forward. As it were, the charm was designed to repel what it came in contact with. Therefore when Harry jumped forward and the shield held out before him struck the three Slytherins, it not only hit them hard, but determined that they were objects that had to move far away from the caster.

Harry, still falling was pushed backward, landing on his feet. His unprepared opponents received the full force of the charm however, along with Harry’s initial momentum, which, deservedly hurled them in to the closed door of the compartment across the aisle. Or at least that was what he figured happened since he heard three heavy thuds and then their own door being slammed shut while Hermione muttered a locking spell.

“Bloody hell mate,” Neville breathed, “Pretty sure I haven’t heard of anyone corrupting the use of the shield charm in to a battering ram before.”

“Yeah well,” Harry said as he fumbled for his seat, “They should’ve, and it was all I could think of really since I figured I wouldn’t be able to hit them with anything else reliably.”

A warm and soft hand Harry was now well familiar with cupped his cheek and turned him to the side. “You, sir, are becoming rather naughty, wouldn’t you say?”

For some reason, words were failing him and Harry couldn’t breathe through the wave of sexual energy that was flooding through him at the moment. Hermione should never be allowed to talk like that, ever.

Unless it was in private.

Yes, she absolutely should talk like that only in private.

Her lips found his and fire bloomed inside him. When she took her lips away he was left trembling and breathing hard. “I suppose I will accept it as cute for now until we determine how to tame you again. But,” those fingers trailed down his cheek, “Thank you regardless for saving me from the evil Malfoy child.”

There should be a law against treating a boyfriend like this in public. Could he please just bed her right now?

Neville cleared his throat across the room, “Anyway, good show Harry. Maybe this will be a great opportunity to see how you reinvent spells for new purposes.”

“Ooh, you should spend more time with the twins Harry, maybe their tendencies are rubbing off on you.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I need,” he managed, “to be more like Fred and George.”

“I like him just as he is thank you very much.” Hermione said, kissing him before returning to her book.

Harry scooted closer to her and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. As if it mattered anymore. It was odd in a way how things seemed to happen to him. He had been freed of some curse that Voldemort had placed on him, and regained some of his magic apparently. Before the incident his spells had been much more effective and natural. But now, casting with a wand would be difficult. He couldn’t aim, he couldn’t dodge. Harry couldn’t even play quidditch now. That wasn’t really as much of a shock considering Umbridge’s ban on flying for him, for life, but it still stung. Harry would never be able to soar through the skies again, never catch another snitch, never dodge another bludger. He would never see the beauty of the castle or the enchanted ceiling.

But he had discovered his love for Hermione, his freedom from the connection with Voldemort, and his ease with academics. Harry would never match Hermione, but at least it wasn’t like trying to pull a boot out of the mud.

Had those gains been worth it? Yeah probably, it just felt like it was more difficult to figure out than that. The fear at having to confront Voldemort was balanced by the love Hermione shared with him. His worry about her getting hurt in the conflict was tempered by her determination to stick by him.

Yes, Harry had joked around at first, but at night, the day she had made his cane for him, he had cried and clung to her for dear life. Hermione had both given him a tool of freedom, and terrifyingly given him the tool that would bring him forth in to the newly terrifying world around him. She was his savior and his pain. And Harry loved her like never before.

But now he had to survive her parents. Bloody hell. Out of the frying pan and in to the fire indeed. Now he really understood what that expression meant.

There was plenty to worry about and consider, but thankfully he had the summer to do it. A summer with Hermione. Probably the first one in his life he had not truly dreaded.

With that thought in mind and her hand in his, Harry drifted off, relaxing in to a dreamless doze until he felt the train beginning to slow beneath him. Now it was time to step out of the Hogwarts bubble. Out in to the world. With Hermione and his whacking stick by his side.

Saying their farewells to Neville and Luna, Harry and Hermione made their way off the train, Harry towing his trunk while holding on to Hermione’s elbow with the other hand, his cane tucked in his armpit. If anything he was getting used to having to manage multiple objects at once. She hurried them through the crowd but halted before the barrier saying, “Hullo Professor Moody.”

“Not yer professor anymore girlie, you can call me Alastor. Potter, good ta see ye’ve joined the club. All the best aurors have lost some amount of vision or other.”

Harry couldn’t help himself, “Is that mostly yourself sir? I mean, considering you’re the best and have lost an entire eye?”

The man laughed. “Ha! Yer alright Potter. Anyway, I’m here ta tell yeh that I’ll be one o’ the people guardin’ yeh while yer at the Grangers’ house. We’ve already installed wards, but we just want ta be sure.”

“Well, thanks I guess. As long as Mr. Fletcher isn’t a guard, especially after what happened with the dementors.”

“Aye. No need to worry, he’s no guard of ours anymore. Ye’ll be safe with the rest o’ us. Ye all set from here lassie?”

Hermione giggled. “Yes sir, thank you.”

Moving on they passed in to Muggle London and she began leading him over to the side. “My parents are over here. I’ve sent them a letter explaining and they were happy to have you. I hope you’re not too worried, they’re going to love you Harry.”

“Not at all love, As long as you are around I’ll be fine.”

Another squeeze of the hand. “They’ll love you Harry. Not as much as I do of course. Hi Mum, hi Daddy.”

She let him go for a minute to hug her parents then took his hand again, pulling him forward. Harry extended his other and clasped hands with someone who seemed to be reaching down to do so. “Nice to meet you Harry, Simon Granger.”

“Its nice to meet you too sir, and thank you both for letting me visit for the summer. Really it means loads.”

“No worries at all dear. I’m Ruth, but you can call me mum.”

He was enveloped by a full hug he was only used to getting from Hermione and a blush stole over his face at the words.

“Muuuum.”

“What dear? He’s already stolen your hand, how long before we lose the rest of you?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Uh, ma’am, we haven’t uh, that is to say…”

Simon laughed and patted Harry’s shoulder. “No worries lad, she likes to make people uncomfortable for some reason. Might have something to do with most of her patients being entirely helpless while in the dentist’s chair.”

“That’s torture sweetie, not humor.”

“Yes, I’m sure they care loads about the difference darling.”

Harry relaxed and laughed along with the rest of them. Maybe they wouldn’t kill him this summer for dating their daughter. And they seemed rather likable. After a few more pleasantries, they began to walk out of the station. Simon and Ruth took the laden carts from the teens which allowed Harry to walk arm in arm with Hermione. God how was he supposed to survive any amount of time without being in contact with her? They talked while they stood on the sidewalk near the car while her parents loaded their trunks and pets, but just as they prepared to get in the car, the one voice he had hoped not to hear came rolling over the crowd.

“Oy, Potter! Where do you think you’re going. Leave those people alone.”

He and Hermione turned to face his uncle Vernon as he pushed through passers-by. Once he was closer, his voice lowered by got no more pleasant. “You don’t need to put your freakishness on these people. What do you think you’re doing?” Then as Simon and Ruth came from the boot he continued in a much more pleasant tone, “Ah, I’m sorry about this. The boy forgets where he should be once and a while. I hope he hasn’t caused any trouble.”

His meaty hand gripped Harry’s shoulder painfully and Harry couldn’t hide the wince.

“Come with me boy, these people have much better business to attend to I’m sure.”

“Actually,” Hermione snapped, “He is supposed to be with us, and his name is Harry. But I’m sure you must be his uncle Vernon.”

He couldn’t see his uncle but Harry felt the hand on his shoulder tighten. “Whatever he has told you I’m sure it was a lovely story. Come boy.”

“Harry,” Hermione almost yelled, “Is coming with us for the summer. Sorry the headmaster didn’t tell you, but we thought you’d be glad for a break from tormenting him.”

“How dare you!”

“You have no need to yell at my daughter sir.” Simon came up beside Harry speaking rather calmly Harry thought given the situation. “And it is true, Harry is spending the summer with us. I do not see why you feel the need to be hurting him right now however. My name is Simon Granger, and you are?”

“Vernon Dursley. Fine, if you want him, he’s yours. Good luck with the freak.”

And with a jab at the pained shoulder, his uncle released him and stomped off, muttering about freaks and their ilk.

“Well,” Harry said, “That was my uncle. I don’t think he likes me much do you?” He chuckled, meaning it as a joke but none of the others joined him. Instead, Hermione folded him in to a hug, trembling. “You alright love?”

She was clinging tightly to him and he could hear the beginnings of tears. “Hermione, why don’t we grab a seat in the car and we can talk about it alright?”

They seated themselves and immediately Hermione ignored her own spot for his lap, arms wrapped about his neck and forehead pressed to the top of his head as she cried.

“You’ve said they’re awful, but it’s just so, so wrong. How can they treat you like that?”

“Its okay love, they just don’t care about me that’s all.”

Ruth started up the car and they began to drive. “Harry, would you mind explaining a bit. What ever you are comfortable with.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. They just never loved me really. Aunt Petunia is my mum’s sister and so that’s why I was placed with them in the first place. They never wanted me and they hate magic.”

“if they treat you like that, what were your living conditions like?”

“Well, I slept in a cupboard under the stairs until I got my Hogwarts letter, then they gave me my cousin’s second bedroom since they thought people knew. It had loads of his old broken toys in it.”

No one said anything, but he felt the car pulling over and Ruth turned the key. A hand took one of his that was wrapped around Hermione’s back and he thought it must be her mother. Ruth squeezed the hand she held and spoke slowly and very seriously. He thought it rather sad that the joviality that had existed only ten minutes before was gone.

“You, no one, should ever be treated like that. Ever. You did not deserve that Harry.”

“Thank you ma’am, but I kind of figured that out recently.”

“Did, did they ever hurt you?”

He took his time to answer that one, Hermione still refusing to sit properly in the car, be he was okay with that. Could he ever really complain about having her on his lap?

“I suppose. I mean, belts and things. They didn’t always let me eat and once or twice I had to stay home from school because they didn’t want anyone knowing how badly I was hurt.”

Ruth’s hand was shaking as it held his and Hermione was faring no better. “We can talk more about this later if you are comfortable with that, but for now Harry, know that you will be safe with us, and we will do everything we can to make you at home. Hermione has told us much about you, so we feel we already know you rather well. Please, please don’t ever worry about asking for something with us alright?”

He had to swallow before answering. “Y, yes, thank you ma’am.”

“Simon you alright sweetie?” Ruth asked, taking back her hand.

Hermione’s father hadn’t made a sound once they had started talking about the Dursleys and when he did speak Harry could hear the calm fury inside him.

“No dear, I’m not alright but we can do nothing right now. I am just glad that Harry is safe with us now.”

“Me too love. Hermione, dear, I’m sorry but you’re going to have to sit in your own spot since we’re heading on to the main road.”

Sniffling and with lingering kisses, Hermione slid from his lap and buckled in to the seat beside him, still holding Harry tightly.

“I’m not letting him talk to you like that ever again, you hear me?”

He smiled and kissed her. It was sweet, but Harry didn’t see much point in fighting back against his uncle, or aunt for that matter. They weren’t likely to change how they felt about him in any way whatsoever. Why bother?

He knew now that he didn’t deserve it, which was an improvement from the year before, but pushing back was another step entirely that Harry didn’t feel he had reached yet. It was enough that he had found people who wouldn’t let him get stepped on. That would have to do for now.

**GITLOH**

They pulled in to the drive and Hermione determined right then and there that her home was going to be Harry’s sanctuary, his safe harbor, whatever she had to do. No matter what. She guided him out of the car and up the short walk to the front door, making sure to tell him that there were three steps up before the door. They entered in to an entryway that opened on to the sitting room, the kitchen and dining room off to the left, the stairs up to the second floor to the right. Hand in hand, his other trailing the wall, Hermione showed Harry the house, using words to describe all she could, sharing memories and stories, sharing her life with him. They passed briefly through the kitchen itself but left quickly so her parents could make dinner. Upstairs she took him through the hall, and in to the guest room with the accompanying washroom, then orienting him to where the toilet was, further down the hall.

Finally, and with a blush upon her cheeks, and his, Hermione showed the boy she loved her bedroom. His hands, so recently used to being gentle with everything, passed along her wall and over her bureau, her closet, and around the perimeter of her bed with such tenderness that it all might as well have been her. She loved him, so much. She loved how he only touched her with a reverent caress that while she felt undeserving of it, it displayed well his depth of feeling for her. He cared about her. He cared about her home. He cared about her space, her past, her history. And all the while they talked, a smile on his face as he learned stories she had never shared before, a tapestry of words and memories that Hermione had never dared to unravel for anyone else.

She loved him.

While they waited for dinner, Hermione helped Harry unpack his things in the guest room, the anger she had felt before resurfacing when she saw how little he actually owned, and how pitiful the things he did have were.

“Tell me you will go shopping with mum and I soon?”

He grinned. “yes dear.”

Her parents were downstairs but she figured they might be able to hear the giggles and shrieks that came from the tickle war she initiated for his cheek. But adorable cheek it was. And when she was out of breath with Harry on top of her, the comforting embrace of the bed beneath her, Hermione knew this summer was going to be a game of resistance and frustration. If the wetness between her legs was anything to speak of, then yes, it was going to be a very frustrating summer. And if the bulge against her thigh was anything to speak of, well, at least she wasn’t alone in her frustration.

Why wasn’t there some kind of marriage law they could invoke so she could just get in bed with him already?

When the call for dinner came up the stairs, they took a moment to compose themselves before making their way to the table, following the smell of lasagna and asparagus. They were home.

Dinner conversation was light that evening, something Hermione was glad for. Why talk about all of the serious matters right away? She had grown up under the philosophy of not rushing the important discussions. Make it work as soon as possible, but do not force it. Important topics always came up and always would. They didn’t need fanfare. Instead they talked about basic plans for the summer, Homework, the upcoming shopping trip for Harry, studying, a visit or twelve to the beach, more studying, and preemptive swimming lessons for him in their pool; the last of which Hermione was rather excited for if she did say so herself. Harry on the other hand only grimaced and blushed. Good, boys should be terrified of women in bikinis, that was the natural order of things.

In an attempt to be as objective as possible, Hermione tried to detach her emotions from the scene, just to see how everything fit. Even doing so, it all felt right. Harry’s sense of humor and banter fit right in with her parents and they seemed to really enjoy talking with him. His nervousness had disappeared and the only thing about dinner that frustrated him was the damn asparagus; which as Hermione attempted for herself, was rather a pain in the neck to cut when you couldn’t see it. So they all made a joke of it and experimented with various strategies, making Harry the guinea pig to test each hypothesis. As hoped, his frustration evaporated and Hermione relaxed, glad that not only did her parents like Harry, but her love seemed comfortable with her parents. What more could she ask for?

After supper Harry admitted to being rather drained, so Hermione brought him upstairs and settled him in to bed. As he curled up beneath the sheets he thanked her for the welcome and said how wonderful her parents were. Hermione knelt by the bedside kissing him and not wanting to let go of his hands. In one sense they would be so close, only a room apart, and in her home no less. But in others, they had slept together for the last days of term, so sleeping separately would be a change. How was she supposed to handle the world of dreams without him by her side? But she kept her tears silent as he drifted off, fingers going slack and his face softening. God, Merlin, whoever, he was so handsome and precious. She rubbed her forehead to his, allowing a single tear to land on the pillow by his nose and then forced herself to stand, letting his hand rest on the bed beside him. Why did leaving him have to be so hard? Hermione closed the door softly behind her and returned to the sitting room where she found her parents sitting and talking quietly together over a last cup of tea before bed. They looked up when she stood in the opening at the bottom of the steps, quiet tears, both happy and sad still slowly trickling down her cheeks.

“I love him.”

No words greeted her proclamation. Her daddy stood, setting down his cup and walked over to her, folding her in to his arms saying, “Its about time someone did. I’m glad its you pumpkin.”

Why did everything have to make her cry recently?

**GITLOH**

*Chapter Updated: 3rd December, 2018

Elise


	4. My Fire

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 4:

My Fire

Harry came awake, once again frustrated by not knowing what time it was. For all he could tell it was 3 A.M. or 9. He did know though that from years of conditioning by the Dursleys he had almost always woken early to begin breakfast. Determining that it was better to just get up and worry about the time later, which was a pun in itself, Harry climbed out of bed and stretched. This was not a Hogwarts bed, but most certainly was the mattress comfortable. He pulled up the sheets and covers to the pillow then found his cane on the bedside table. Trailing it along the floor before him, Harry moved in the direction of the door and followed the wall until he came upon the handle. Thankfully the door was quiet when it opened, adding the feeling of a more recently built and wealthy home. He crossed the hall and came to Hermione’s door which was closed, so it was likely early. That was fine then, it would give him some time to explore.

Turning to go, Harry placed a hand on her door and paused, head lowered, wishing only to hear her breathe, or a rustle of the sheets. She was everything to him now, part dependency, part freedom. Everything within him lit up when she was around, both with joy and sexual energy. It was like she lit his body on fire with energy and emotion that he could neither understand or control. Without her it was dark. Plain and simple.

He stepped forward leaving behind the one room that glowed in his heart and cautiously felt the ground with his cane in search of the top step. Every section of the journey was a new challenge that allowed him to congratulate himself on upon completion. The stairs, maneuvering around the sitting room furniture and finding the dining room; entering the kitchen and exploring all sides of it, terrified that he would accidentally knock something over and wake everyone up. Harry set his cane against the door frame and examined his surroundings. He was pleased to discover that the kitchen layout was rather simple and well arranged for him to navigate and locate what he needed easily. He found the teapot sitting beside the stove and decided to start with something simple. Filling it was easy, he discovered that if he stuck his finger in the opening he would be able to feel when it was nearly full, and to his satisfaction, he could also hear a difference in pitch as the water filled the container. He would certainly be experimenting more with sound since it was clearly more helpful than it seemed. Harry would take nothing for granted in this new world of his.

Since the stove was cool, Harry was able to place the teapot by touch and spin the dial to the appropriate level. Congratulations were in order, but first he had to get the food started. Chopping vegetables was easier than he would have thought. Yes he nearly cut himself on several occasions, but it was really the same process, just with more risk and physical touching. Cracking the eggs was as easy as ever. After his years of training, he could do it in his sleep. He placed the frying pan on an unused burner and got it heating up, then he froze with the bowl of egg mixture hovering over the pan. How was he supposed to find the edge of the pan so he didn’t miss? How was he supposed to know when it was done? How was he supposed to do any of this without burning either himself or the house down.

Harry stepped back, away from the stove just as the tea began to whistle. His hands were shaking and he wasn’t sure what to do. It was too much, too much. It didn’t matter how skilled he was, he didn’t know how to do everything this way. Yes he could learn, but who was he to think he could just get up and start breakfast without knowing anything about how to do it without vision. He was an arrogant berk, that’s what he was.

The burner knob clicked and the tea stopped its whistle. A hand touched his shoulder making him jump and nearly drop the bowl.

“It seems like you know your way around the kitchen son. Why don’t we do it together and I can help you where you need it alright?”

It was Simon Granger. Harry felt both relieved and embarrassed. Had the man been watching him? His cheeks began to burn and Harry ducked his head.

“Sorry sir, I…”

“Harry?”

“Y-yes sir?”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of alright? I was coming down to start breakfast myself when you came out in to the hall. I made the decision not to interrupt you because honestly its important to know what you are comfortable with, both for me to know and yourself. I can say honestly son that you are going to do wonderfully. You have a lot of comfort with the kitchen as it is, we just have to build on that.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Keep calling me sir and I’ll tell Hermione on you.”

Harry smiled. Yes, he rather liked the Grangers.

Together, he and Simon worked out some tactics to tackle the stove, such as using the oven mitts to allow him to feel the pan and a fork to allow him to test his food as it cooked. Harry did already have a lot of knowledge about cooking it was just translating it in to the new senses. And all the while he and Simon talked and joked, sipping their tea. Ruth came down not long after the full English was finished and they talked some more about making the kitchen more manageable for him. Both of them were displeased to learn just how conditioned he was and determined that he was allowed to cook for everyone when he wanted, but certainly not every meal and he had to let Simon cook his famous pancakes every so often. They were welcoming and pleasant, and clearly very intelligent. The only thing that distressed him was some of the terminology they used when discussing the effects the Dursleys had had on him, but he knew they didn’t mean it to hurt him, so he determined to later look up the meanings.

It was while cutting up his sausage with some difficulty that he felt the change. It was as if he had sensed the presence and his heart had decided to dance for her. Behind him in the entrance to the sitting room, he heard a breath in through her nose and a subsequent quiet yawn. He stood, and fought his chair away to get around it.

“Mmm, good morning. That smells lovely.” Her voice was thick with sleep, and it was beautiful. Harry stepped towards her and took Hermione in to his arms squeezing his groggy girlfriend to him. She was in a night gown, her curly hair loose and every inch of her radiated the scent of Hermione. It was impossible to lay in one position all night covered by the sheets and not carry your natural smell more strongly. Lavender mixed with the scent of her flesh and she felt so delicate in his arms, so frail.

“Good morning. I missed you.” He whispered it in to her neck, rocking Hermione as she returned the embrace with equal urgency.

“I missed you too. That was too long.”

And it was true, that was the longest they had been apart since their first kiss, and it had been hard. His entire being was warming up again, as if he were standing by a fire in the winter. Everything else was cold, and Hermione was his warmth. Even as he held her, his heart cried out in glory and pain, like a stretched muscle tearing so it could grow stronger. The center of Harry’s world was within his grasp, and Hermione was it. Everything else disappeared in that moment and nothing else mattered but the angel he held.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm,” a trembling yawn, “Well enough, but I missed you. It’s not the same. Who made breakfast?”

“Your da…”

“Actually,” her father broke in, “Harry made breakfast, I only helped with a couple things. He’s rather good Hermione, definitely a keeper.”

“That’s my line darling.” Ruth chimed in.

“Ah, right you are love.”

Even in their tight embrace Hermione turned her head towards him, “Did you really?”

Harry blushed but she separated just enough to put her lips to his. He breathed her in through his nose as she held his mouth to her’s and all uncertainty melted away. She was proud of him, and she loved him. Seconds later, at a cough from her father, they broke the kiss and Hermione pressed her forehead to his.

“You’re going to be brilliant, you know that. You can do anything you want to, I know you can. I love you Harry.”

The intimacy of the moment burned through him, and it was all because of her. “I love you too. You’re my fire, you know that? Everything is warmed and brighter with you here. I can do it, but you’re the reason why.”

That earned him another searing kiss and this time Hermione ignored her parents. Breakfast could wait.

**GITLOH**

Hermione was proud of her father. Whatever his reasons, he could have been upset with Harry for dating his daughter, and yet he was instead pleasant and very accepting of Harry’s disability. He was more than she could have ever asked for, and she vowed to herself that her daddy was never to be neglected by her.

Considering how much she knew Harry hated discussions about himself, he was very receptive and even thankful when they discussed the services her parents had arranged for him. The following day a representative of the government services for those with visual difficulties would come to meet Harry and assess him. She was as eager for him to learn braille as he was, and Hermione was curious to see just how the cane was to be properly used. He seemed less eager for the orientation and mobility instruction than she had expected though. At least he wanted to learn to read again, that was worth something, especially to her.

Today though they would be going shopping for clothes. Harry was in desperate need of new garments and he knew it. When he grimaced at the prospect of shopping all day, only a kiss made him feel better. So she held them randsome and told him that if he was good all day he could have more.

The satisfied smirk he gave her afterwards was rather disconcerting however and no amount of interrogation got him to admit to its source. She might just have bitten off more than she could chew there, but it was too late now.

For years, her home had been inhabited by only the three of them, and now with Harry added to the mix, it amazingly felt no different. That was wrong to say however for it was of course different. She considered his immediate affect on her family as they talked in the car on the way to the shopping center. If anything he made it better.

For the sake of accuracy, which Hermione demanded of herself, he made it no less cohesive. She was raised an only child and had always had her parents’ full attention. With Harry there was no deviation from their love or parenting. He made them whole, as if something had been missing without anyone noticing. She might not have believed it possible mere months ago if someone had told her that Harry was integral to her family; that he could be a part of it without anyone batting an eye, without anyone uncertain just how to involve him.

But now, seeing the proof as they meandered through the stores, taking great enjoyment from describing everything to him, from the random passers by or forcing him in to various dressing rooms, she could see just how true it was. He belonged with her, he belonged with her parents, they all belonged together. How else could one explain away such a seamless joining. She knew he had won his way in to their hearts the night before, but if anything drove it home, it was what happened just after lunch.

Loaded down with what shopping had been completed, without allowing Harry to pay a dime for it, much to his gracious frustration, her parents led the way down the line of shops to the next clothing store, intent on getting him some formal wear. Arm linked with her’s, Harry was telling her about the time he had vanished a wall of glass on his cousin, when she smelled them. Just ahead was a bookstore, and the aroma of the pages was calling to her. Hermione gripped him tighter and squealed as she tugged him ahead of her parents.

“Oooooh, let’s see what they have! Really quick I promise.”

Suddenly Harry swung around her and pulled her in to a tight embrace, nearly falling over as he pulled them to a stop, chuckling.

“Hey, what are you doing?” she growled as she attempted to extricate herself. Her parents halted beside them clearly interested to see how this went for him.

“Well,” he began, that evil smirk returning to his face. “Since you saw fit to withhold even a kiss from me until the day is done, I don’t see why you should be rewarded for your cruelty by purchasing books. What would you say sir?”

Her mouth was open in shock and Hermione turned pleading eyes to her father who was trying not to laugh himself. “Seems like a serious offense what she did. An eye for an eye they say. Leaves everyone half blind, but since you’re entirely so, I should think you would understand fully the concept. So, I should think that you have determined a perfect punishment for the rebellious child, don’t you?”

Harry nodded in his direction before turning back to Hermione. “Yes sir, I would be happy to ensure that your daughter has her cruel side trained right out of her. Come on then love, we have clothes to buy. Wouldn’t want to fail my test by missing valuable shopping time now would I?”

He began sweeping his cane ahead of him in the general direction they had been heading while guiding her by the arm.

Yes, she certainly had bitten off more than she could chew.

Both of her parents were laughing now and so in a last desperate attempt to get what she wanted Hermione caught Harry up as he had to her and placed a very long and intense kiss to his lips, one hand holding his head to her’s. When she separated, he was panting a little with a giant bloody grin on his face.

“Can I buy a book now?”

He laughed silently and placed his forehead to her’s, cupping her cheek.

“Many. You may buy many books now.”

Giggling like a child she ignored his bad grammar and hurried in to the bookstore, the others trailing behind her. She’d lost a battle, but the war would be won by her and her alone. And her father would pay for that one too. But first, a nice romance novel or seven would suffice to prove her literary dominance over the lot of the self-satisfied prats.

It did make one thing very clear to Hermione though. She would have to marry that boy someday.

Following, she noted silently but happily that her parents rarely called him Harry anymore, instead they used words like son, or dear. Pet names for children. She had to use the washroom to get a moment to compose herself once she noticed the trend. Could they really be that accepting of him so quickly?

He had called her his Fire. He couldn’t see and yet he made her feel beautiful. He was intelligent in his own right and yet he made her feel brilliant. Harry was the kindest person she knew, and yet he made her feel like an angel.

He made her begin to love herself. Through the self dislike she had heaped upon herself during primary school. Past the image of a plain ugly girl who only liked books rather than people.

Harry made Hermione feel like she was worth it.

His fire.

He had said she brought warmth and light to his world.

If only he knew just how much brighter her own universe had become with him in it.

And easier, it was always better when your boyfriend carried the ten books you purchased out of spite for you. He was a good sport though, he didn’t complain once and only smiled the whole while. God she loved him.

**GITLOH**

God he loved her, but now he knew never to try teaching Hermione a lesson. It wasn’t worth it.

After getting back from the store, Hermione had insisted that they do some of their summer homework which consisted of her sitting in his lap to make sure she was close enough so he could clearly hear her read the transfiguration text to him. Of course she wasn’t entirely comfortable so she had to keep shifting her bum.

Women were just plain evil.

His job was to brush her hair. The entire time. Even though his arm hurt after about three pages. Girls did this every day?

Yup, he’d lost. Big time.

Maybe he could come up with a battle plan with her father in the next day or two. Simon Granger had set up an appointment for him to take a look at Harry’s teeth. Considering Harry had never been to a dentist, he thought it would be interesting and maybe a good time to plot against the evil girlfriend. He hadn’t been able to figure out why Hermione had started giggling when her dad told him about the appointment.

Women were evil. And weird. No one should have that much power. It was wrong, plain wrong.

**GITLOH**

Author’s Note

To answer the question of Harry’s recovery of his vision. It is in bad taste for any writer or author to set rules and then break them, it sets a bad precedent and makes them unreliable as an author. If a loophole can be found then fine, but in this case there is none. Magic can not repair his vision and as a result his body has entirely cut off the effort to see again, as a result of the magic. No loopholes here. Even if he had a nonmagical operation to restore his pupils, his body has broken the pathways it would need to utilize it.

Nope, phoenix tears won’t help either.

Also, if I suddenly gave him his vision back it would make the entire story a waste, kind of like ending something with “and it was all a dream” heck no, I have standards.

*Chapter Updated: 3rd December, 2018

Elise


	5. Dentistry

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 5:

Dentistry

Harry awoke on the morning of his big day to a loud twittering and the sound of something small hitting the headboard repeatedly. He shook the sleep from his mind and sat up, trying to figure out what was going on. If that noise continued it was going to wake everyone up. Tiny wings, twittering, small. Maybe it was Ron’s owl?

Excitement flooded him and Harry began snatching at the owl, trying to catch the elusive beast. It proved to be too difficult now though, his reflexes were slowed and his accuracy was entirely out of order.

Frustrated, Harry waited a moment and then lunged, deciding to just try and crush the creature. At least it would stop squeaking. Unfortunately he hadn’t planned for his current location and found himself flying forward off the side of the bed. The only thing he had left over from his Quidditch skills was knowing how to fall. He hit the carpet with a roll that was more of a tumble and sprawled out on his back, shocked. Adrenaline was hammering through him. Falling without sight was much more terrifying than doing it when he could see where he was.

The hell spawn stopped squeaking and landed on his chest, hopping up and down with the letter that was far too large for it.

From the doorway he heard Hermione’s clear laugh filling his room. He groaned and snatched the owl off of its new perch.

“You’re adorable you know that?” she managed through her giggles.

“Oh yeah, bloody beautiful I am. Since I’m so pretty, would you care to read me the letter this monster brought me?”

Hermione padded over and knelt beside him. Her soft hands took Pigwidgeon from him and he heard her untie the letter. The owl took off again thankfully leaving them for Hedwig’s cage. Harry yelped when Hermione turned and sat on his thighs without warning.

“What?”

“God woman, you can’t just sit on people. What ever happened to “your grace, may I have leave to sit please?””

She snorted then unfurled the letter and began to read.

“Dear Harry, and whoever is reading this to you. So sorry to hear about your eyes mate. I woke up yesterday and Ginny’s been telling me everything that she read in the Prophet. She was great you know, coming to stay with me rather than finishing off the year. Anyway, that’s really terrible. How are you going to do anything now. Quidditch is going to be a problem now eh? At least Hermione can’t make you study whenever she wants to now. Bloody annoying that is.”

Hermione stopped and he could feel her trembling. Harry sat up and embraced her.

“Forget about him. He’s just a git, and he doesn’t really mean it like that. Ron’s just, well, Ron. Besides, you’re brilliant, and studying with you is much better than doing it alone.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have read it. I mean, you’re boys, so you probably have things you say to each other anyway.”

Hermione was crying again and trying to stand up, but Harry held her to him.

“Let me go Harry.”

“Hermione, if you think I ever agreed with Ron about stuff like that then you’re barmy. He’s a berk alright?”

She was breathing through her nose, a clear sign of her anger. “If he’s such a berk then why are you still friends with him?”

“Because I’m an idiot boy desperate for friends?” Hermione tried to get up again but he held her fast. “Look. I Never liked how he treated you. Especially since I think he fancies you. I never got that. And really Hermione, do you think I’d be here right now if I agreed with him?”

He received a light head bump against his shoulder.

“I would never make you choose Harry, but it’s getting hard. He can be really great sometimes, but it hurts. You’re the first person to make me feel better about myself, and now that I am feeling like I don’t deserve to be treated like that…”

He nuzzled the top of her head. “Tell you what. I’ll talk to him, and if he doesn’t start being nice to you then I’ll stop being friends with him. You’re right Hermione, you don’t deserve that. Whether he fancies you or not, he shouldn’t be mean to you. Besides, he knows he’s never getting you away from those books right?”

She smiled, the upturn of her mouth evident in her tone. “He’s never getting me away from you, Potter.”

“Ah, right. That brings up a good point. Who do you like more, me or books?”

Silence. He reached up to feel her face and found her mouth open in astonishment and Harry burst out laughing.

“You’re a git Harry. You know I love books more than anything.”

He tried to act hurt, but he was too busy laughing at the expression that had answered his question. “I think you’re the only girl in the world who’d rather read than date her celebrity boyfriend.”

Her head tilted up to him, her lips inches away from his. “I think I rather demonstrated my ability to multitask last night. Didn’t I?”

His mouth went dry and certain parts of his anatomy began responding, making Hermione giggle. “Yeah, thought so. Remember Potter. I’m a girl, and I always get what I want.”

She kissed him, twisting to press the top half of her body against him.

Evil.

“Want me to read the rest?” she asked quietly, nibbling his ear.

“Burn it for all I care. Too much pity in there and not enough appreciation for you. We can deal with him later.”

Hermione pushed him flat to the floor, hands splayed across his chest, lips to his ear.

“You always were the smart one. And the more easily trained.”

She wriggled atop him, eliciting a groan of frustration, kissed him soundly, then rolled off him with a bright laugh.

“Now then, time to get you ready to go sit in daddy’s chair.”

Harry gulped. Yeah, if Simon Granger had any idea the thoughts that were going through Harry’s head right now about his daughter, Harry wouldn’t be making it out of this mysterious chair any time soon.

“You’re evil woman. You know that?”

“Evil? Tantalizing, scholarly, wonderful, angelic, any of those would do fine. I don’t know if evil fits me though.”

“Oh believe me. There’s plenty of, OW!”

She whacked him gently on the forehead with the rolled up letter before climbing to her feet. Her bare feet were almost silent on the thick carpet, but he strained to hear every step, because they were her steps.

“Watch it boy, or I’ll tell daddy you invited me in to your room to “READ” to you first thing in the morning.”

“But that was…”

Hermione left the room, whistling terribly off key but clearly ignoring him. Yes, she certainly was evil, even if she didn’t know it.

**GITLOH**

“Ungh.”

“Interesting. So do you think its magic then?”

“ununnnngh.”

“I mean, Hermione’s are perfect as well.”

“Unaungh?”

“Yup. She did something to them last year though. I imagine she told you about it?”

“Unna oongh ahangh.”

“You’re fault huh?”

“Ah hah.”

“Hmmm. She didn’t say anything about that. Hermione said the nurse fixed them when she hurt herself with a spell. That true?”

“aaaaaaa… aha eeeurrr.”

“You know I can understand you right?”

“Oooo aaaah?”

“Yup. Dentists learn the art of the language of ungh. So, just know that when you’re able to say more than a few syllables I’ll be inquiring as to why it’s your fault that my daughter had spell damage in her fourth year.”

“Eeehhh uuurrrr.”

“Good lad.”

Considering that the discussion was rather one-sided once Simon stuck his hooks in Harry’s mouth and proceeded to make him wonder why his hole head hurt from a poke in the tooth, Harry thought it went rather well. Simon hadn’t killed him at least. It was what Simon and Ruth said to him once she arrived to bring him home that hit him for the day.

“I have to be honest Harry,” Simon began while Harry spat out his lungs in the miniature toilet bowl they’d given him. “I’m rather supposed to hate you. You’re dating my daughter after all and she’s clearly crazy about you. But, I don’t, and in truth, I’m glad she found you.”

Harry gawked at him until he noticed the ropes of saliva hanging from his chin. Really, what was it about the dentist office that made so much of that stuff just appear out of nowhere?

“I’m not supposed to hate you dear,” Ruth said from beside her husband, “But I am supposed to make sure she doesn’t settle for someone who won’t treat her well. And it seems clear that you will.”

“Then, thank you. It means a lot really. Hermione’s… Well, Hermione’s Hermione. I don’t that she even realizes how great she is. I probably don’t either, but I’d do anything for her.”

“And seriously Harry, I should hate you for how much my daughter cares about you.” He sighed. “Instead, I’m happy that she found someone who loves her as much as I do. Having said that, hurt her and I’ll make sure you understand why “the chair” isn’t considered a pleasant place to rest, got it?”

Gulping, “Y, yes sir.”

“We really are happy to have you Harry. We couldn’t have asked for her to find someone better. I know you’re young, but you seem to care for each other a great deal.”

“I love her ma’am. She’s everything to me.”

Words dissolved in to tears after that, Ruth Granger deciding it was easier to just hug him than try to talk through her weepiness.

Why was everyone always crying recently?

**GITLOH**

Hermione determined that cleaning the pool in preparation for the upcoming swimming with her boyfriend, added to cleaning the house in advance of the government representative’s arrival, was easier than cleaning her mind of self-detrimental thoughts. She took a fresh cup of tea out to the back yard and sat beside the pool, looking forward to getting Harry in the water. The trouble was that while he had done a fair job of explaining himself that morning about Ron’s pigheadedness, it still didn’t end her feelings about it.

Yes, Ronald had done some things to help them. He’d beaten the chess set in first year, but only after nearly getting them expelled for a midnight duel and the discovery of Fluffy the Cerberus. In second year he had helped Harry coerce Lockhart in to going down in to the chamber, and if his wand hadn’t been broken, he and Harry wouldn’t have their memories. This however only happened because he nearly got them expelled again by breaking the statute of secrecy, which she was surprised there had been no consequences for. If he hadn’t broken his wand while flying the car, they wouldn’t have made it out of the chamber. In third year Ronald had been a bloody prat, period.

During fourth year Ronald had accused Harry of lying due to jealousy, been rude to Hermione for no bloody reason, and been essentially useless. This past year he had joined them in the department of mysteries, which was markedly a really good thing to do.

Yet, Ronald Weasley was not adding up to Hermione as either a good friend, or a reliable ally. It didn’t help that in the five years she had known him, he had happily made her cry too many times for her to count.

Hermione blew lightly on her tea. No, she had learned that she didn’t deserve that, thanks to Harry, and she wasn’t going to tolerate it anymore.

But what if Harry still wanted Ron around. Yes Harry was here with her now, but Ron was probably more fun to him than a bookworm who looked rather plain. What if Ronald convinced him that he would be better off leaving her behind rather than breaking up their friendship. They had been her first real friends other than her parents, or at least Harry was. But even then, they had been friends before she had been included.

But Harry loved her right? That had to count for something. Or at least she hoped it did. Hermione hadn’t had much experience in the ways of romance, so she couldn’t say for certain if Harry would rather be with her or keep his friendship with Ron. Maybe that was part of relationships, just not having that assurance.

She wasn’t going to lie to herself though; the uncertain and unpopular girl inside her really wanted that confidence. She couldn’t deny that part of her really believed she needed that from him. But was that normal to want or was she being partially overbearing. Considering how fast she had fallen for him, it wasn’t surprising really. How could she not love him? Harry was the only boy who was really close to her that treated her like a person who deserved to be appreciated. And he had saved her life, twice.

She continued to mull over things while drinking her beverage but heard the car pull in to the drive before she could finish. Eager to see the results of the conversation with her father she hurried inside and met Harry and her mom in the sitting room.

“How did it go?” She prompted, unable to hold back a grin.

Harry smiled as he closed up his cane and approached her. “wonderfully actually. We’ve formed the “Men’s Alliance Against Women of Evil,” or MAAWE for short. Your dad’s great.”

Hermione growled and tackled him to the sofa, tickling him anywhere she could reach. Caught off-guard Harry squealed and started begging for mercy immediately while her mother blew a raspberry in to the air and moved off upstairs. Hermione straddled him, kissing his laughing face, holding his arms down so he couldn’t get hold of her. She was definitely enjoying this on a visceral and sexual level, but they hadn’t exactly been together long enough to make her feel comfortable enough to do more than play about with teasing. So instead of grinding her hips in to him like she wanted to, she laid her chin against his shoulder, her cheek touching his.

“I love you Mr.”

With a quick motion he freed his arms and wrapped them about her. His fingers slid beneath her mane of hair and brushed the back of her neck. It sent a shiver through her which wasn’t helping her current state. Though, Harry wasn’t exactly getting through unscathed either, a fact she rather enjoyed feeling against her.

“I love you too Hermione. To be honest, there isn’t anything as good as coming home to you. I’d really like to keep that.”

Hermione nuzzled his ear. “I think that could be managed sweetheart.”

Somehow, without intending to, he had cast away all her concerns. How did he always do that to her? How did he always save her from herself like that without even intending to?

“How do you always make me feel better like that?” she muttered.

“Something wrong?”

“Not anymore.”

“Mind telling me?”

She might have been wide awake, but with him caressing the back of her neck like that and speaking softly, it was lulling her in to a slumber, her eyes fighting her to close. “Just me being stupid.”

“Hmmm. Doesn’t sound like you.”

She smiled and rubbed her cheek against his. “MMMMM. Just worried about the whole Ron thing, but I’m good now.”

“yeah? I get that. You have nothing to worry about you know? Is there anything I can do?”

She was losing the fight, her eyes nearly closed, the deeper tones of his voice making his chest vibrate against her’s. “Mmmmm, no. I’m good now. Just not used to people wanting to be around me.”

“Ah, well I hear you but I have to admit I don’t get it. Anyone who doesn’t want to be around you isn’t worth the thought.”

“Love you.”

She felt him smile. “Love you too.” After a pause he added gently, “You can always talk to me about that stuff okay? I’m here for you.”

“Mmmm.”

“Tired?”

“Mhmm.”

“You can rest if you like, I’ll hold you.”

She faded off after that, as comfortable as she had ever been.

**GITLOH**

Harry was happy to just lay there holding her. At first their slightly amorous activity had gotten him aroused, but now he was relaxed. Her warm breath passed over his ear, her curls tickling the left side of his face, her rather well developed body atop him. Yes it was appealing, but she was just so cute like that he didn’t want to let her go. If only he could fall asleep like this every night, feeling her slip in to dreams within his arms. What he wouldn’t give.

It was a few minutes later when he heard Ruth Granger come downstairs and pause, overlooking the sofa. His hands resting on Hermione’s back, he lifted one a little to give her a wave, to show he was awake, though he wasn’t sure if she’d see it. It seemed she did however for she came closer and bent to whisper in his other ear. Hopefully she wasn’t mad about their positioning.

“I’ll let you know a little before the woman gets here. Get some rest you two.”

He gave another wave and a smile. Ruth kissed his forehead then walked away almost without sound. Her approval alone meant the world to him. It meant she understood and didn’t just view him as a typical boy trying to violate her daughter. She trusted them.

Wow that was new to him. Yes, Hermione and her family were fabulous and Harry wasn’t going to do anything to mess it up.

**GITLOH**

*Chapter Updated: 3rd December, 2018

Elise


	6. Scars

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 6:

Scars

Carrol Turner lifted her bag laden with assessment tools from the passenger seat and slid out of the car. The weight of it made sure that she never forgot why she did what she did. Her entire career, her entire life, was devoted to doing everything she could to prevent the same thing that happened to her little brother, from happening to others.

As a habilitation specialist for the RNIB she made it her duty to help anyone with a vision loss to the best of her ability. That training, that instruction in living life to the fullest was all she could give; and sometimes it was not enough, but everyone was different. Even if she could make a small difference in someone’s world, it made her bag feel just a little lighter. For a while at least.

She approached the front door of the well-appointed home and rang the bell, adjusting the strap over her shoulder while removing a few strands of her ponytail from beneath it. She had diligently read the brief information given to her by her supervisor, wishing she had more. Harry Potter was an orphan and staying with a friend and her parents during summer break from their school up in Scotland. He had lost his vision in a chemical spill at school and as a result he was entirely blind.. Apparently he already had a cane and the adults he was with were dentists, so they were at least familiar with the medical profession.. The lack of detail was odd as more commonly more of a life story and summarization of the client’s exact situation were made available.

When the door opened she came face to face with three people, two teens and a woman who was obviously the girl’s mother. Harry as she could tell instantly had no pupils. The sun hit his eyes of solid green and something caught in her. This was different, seemingly improbable. Carroll had never heard of something like this before. But this wasn’t the time to stare, so she smiled at them and extended a hand.

“Hello, my name is Carrol Turner, I am the habilitation specialist from the Royal National Institute for the Blind, I believe we spoke on the phone.” The last she directed solely to the older woman who smiled in welcome, taking the proffered hand.

“We did. It is nice to meet you in person Carrol. As you know I am Ruth, this is my daughter Hermione, and the boy staring so intently at the sun is Harry.”

Her eyes returned to Harry to see him blushing sheepishly. He reached out in her vague direction. “It’s nice to meet you Ms. Turner and thank you so much for coming to see us.”

“Pleasure, and of course I am happy to.”

“Do come in, can I offer you some tea?” Ruth offered, stepping back from the door.

“That would be lovely thank you.”

Following them inside, Carrol began scanning everything she could see with a quick sweep, assessing for the usual arrangement of items within a home that were rather unhelpful to those navigating without sight. What she saw however was a well-organized home that was free of clutter, and a blind Harry Potter using his cane to trail along the wall through the living room and in to the kitchen. He was even tapping lightly, likely so as not to damage the baseboard. Neither Ruth or his friend Hermione helped him, rather they moved as if they expected him to have no difficulty at all.

It couldn’t be this simple could it? There was always a difficulty.

“Did you have a pleasant drive over Ms. Turner?” Harry asked while fumbling for a chair at the table. Well it was good he wasn’t perfect at least.

“I did thank you. It is a brief trip but I always liked this neighborhood. How was your morning?”

“Well,” he said, somehow making his cane fold up within itself without pressing a button that she could see. “I had a lovely visit with an evil man and his iron hooks. He seemed to enjoy staring at my teeth for some reason.”

The girl, Hermione, who had seated herself rather close to Harry, snorted and poked him in the shoulder. “It’s not your teeth. Don’t you know dentists can read your soul? That’s how they understand you when you can’t talk.”

He mock shivered. “True evil that is.”

Carrol chuckled, relaxing almost immediately at the sight of his humor. It was good to see he was in a decent mood so recently after his vision loss. Either that or he was disguising his feelings which would be not at all out of place considering. Such reactions were destructive and common, but then, most children weren’t supposed to be well acquainted with trauma recovery.

Once Ruth distributed the tea, Carrol took a first sip and sat straighter in her chair. “Well then Harry, how about I start with who I am and what I offer, and you can then tell me about yourself and what you need from me. Sound good?” At his nod she continued. “Well I am a rehabilitation therapist for the Royal National Institute for the Blind which has been around since the mid 19th century. There are various services we provide, but I can see that several of them would not be necessary for you. My particular job is to be your representative, your teacher, your, counselor, so to speak in the matters of blindness. I would normally start with a speech about how you will be capable of doing anything you otherwise would, just with different strategies, but I can tell that you already know that. Many people upon losing their vision go through the common phases of grief because of how prominent sight is in our world. Eventually though, most recognize their own potential.

“As for what I can do for you? You will have to learn how to complete the same tasks with different methods, that I can teach you. But rather than teaching you everything in specific I prefer to have you learn the strategies for problem solving those alterations yourself. We start by determining what your current skills are, and building on them. I can directly instruct you in Orientation and Mobility, which will allow you to navigate in familiar and unfamiliar places, cooking, cleaning, reading, adaptations, and so on. All of these services are free of charge for you and entirely up to your preference. So, why don’t you tell me about yourself and the current situation and we’ll go from there.”

While Harry seemed to gather himself, Carrol noticed that as Hermione reached for her teacup, she brushed her arm against his. And kept it there. Not only was it an obvious gesture, but it solidified that she was sitting as close to him as she was, for that exact reason. Were they an item?

“Well Ms. Turner, the short version is that I grew up with my aunt, uncle, and cousin since my parents died when I was a baby. I’ve been attending a school up in Scotland with Hermione here since we were eleven. A couple of weeks ago there was an accident in the chemistry lab and, well, this happened. No one is really sure how, but it did so I’m choosing to just get going on learning what I can. I’m really interested in learning to read and write again, but I have to admit I’m a bit uncertain about getting around now. Cooking might be fun though.” He spoke like he was older than fifteen and that was understandable considering the things he had skimmed over. It also did not help that he had given her literally no more information than she already had. When he stopped to drink more tea, his other hand slid over to take Hermione’s. Yes they certainly were dating with how absent-minded that motion had been and how both of their faces lit up. It was good then that he had her support, but did she understand what she was getting in to? Dating someone with a disability wasn’t to be discouraged, but that didn’t make it any easier. They did make a cute couple though.

“Well I’m glad to hear you want to learn braille for literacy, but you mention cooking. Do you have any prior experience with it?”

He blushed. “Yeah, quite a bit of practice I’d say.”

“And it is delicious.” Hermione chimed in with a smile in Harry’s direction. His blush deepened.

“Well that’s good then, it always helps to build off of skills you already have. We can work on teaching you adaptations and different strategies going forward. Also, if you are to continue school we will have to work with your professors to make sure they are aware of what you will need from them. Are you the only blind student at your school?”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think they’ve ever had anyone else like this.”

“That’s alright then. We’ll work on it and we have two solid months to work with as it is. I have to say that having a place to live where you are comfortable and involved will be a great help to you.”

“I agree. The grangers are wonderful.”

Hermione beamed at him.

“So how about I come by three times a week. How about Monday, Wednesday and Friday? Would that work for you all?”

Ruth Granger nodded. “That works for me. Simon and I are at work all day so it would really depend on whether or not you needed us here.”

Technically she did need a guardian present, but not necessarily for the entirety of the lesson, and some rules could be broken right? “Well, we could schedule it so that the second half of the lesson is while you are home? I’m not technically supposed to, but you do need the services.”

She relaxed when Ruth gestured in agreement. “That sounds perfect. I understand the restrictions, but this works out well so we can learn from you as well to make sure Harry’s not getting away with anything.”

“Oy!”

They continued to discuss specifics and Carrol was rather surprised when Harry had rather logical and well thought out questions to ask her before she left. All in all she felt rather good about this one. No one would be getting left behind here.

She said her farewells and planned to return the following Monday. She was so pleased with herself she barely noticed a large bird fly overhead as she got in to her car.

**GITLOH**

Almost before they even heard Carrol’s car start, there came a rapping at the kitchen window. Hermione rushed in to the room and had a minor heart attack as she spotted the large owl waiting eagerly for her to open the window, a scroll tied to its leg. “Damn it.” She muttered while letting it in. “Mum, we’re going to have to consider this. It doesn’t look like she noticed this one, but if she’s spending much time here then Carrol’s very likely to notice that some things are off. Even if she manages to miss the large nocturnal delivery method.”

Behind her Harry and her mother entered the room while she had to cope with the unblinking eyes staring at her reproachfully, as if to imply that their owner was rather offended at being referred to as oversized.

“You’re right dear. Let’s talk about it at dinner. I don’t know your laws or how the statute works, so if we need to reach out for advice then let’s do that as well. Is that letter important?”

Seeing the letter was addressed to Harry, Hermione held it out to him. This could be a problem, but perhaps Dumbledore was willing to find a way around it for Harry, given his condition. He had always bent the rules for him in the past and after his allowance of staying with Hermione over the summer, as unpredicted as it had been, it meant that there was a likelihood of further allowances from their headmaster.

Her mother clearing her throat snapped Hermione back to awareness. She turned to see what the fuss was about, and realized she had been extending the scroll toward Harry, who had no clue she was doing so. What an idiot she was!

“I’m sorry Harry. What was I thinking? I’m such an idiot sometimes. God that was so rude, as if you were supposed to know I was holding it out to you. As if you were going to read it or something. I mean really.”

Before she could continue, Hermione found herself wrapped in his arms, his smiling face before her.

“Yeah because you’re supposed to be perfect, right?”

“Well not perfect exactly, but…”

“But what? Flawless? Godlike? Imperceptibly flawed?”

She glared at him which he seemed to know because his smile broadened.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. And I know when you’re glaring at me by the way, my brain starts feeling like someone’s trying to incinerate it. Look, it is okay, you were thinking about other things. We will have to punish you though. How about reading me the letter, eh?”

She gave him a quick peck, choosing not to tell him that she was glad he felt discomfort when her ire was directed at him, and stepped out of his embrace to read.

“Mr. Potter. We at Gringots take care to fulfill the contracts we formulate with our clients, despite the potential factors that may come in to play from external sources. In this instance, due to the recent passing of one Sirius Black, we are required to request your presence to take part in a will reading. The factors that appear in this matter are as follows. Sirius Orion Black has been declared a criminal by the Ministry of Magic. This would normally void his will and surrender his possessions to the government. However, as he was your godfather, by both religious ceremony as well as a binding ritual, we are therefore able to follow the word of our contract and contact you first regarding your concerns in this dealing.

“Following his passing, we received a visit from Albus Dumbledore, in which he claimed that you have lost your vision and would not be able to travel to Gringots in the event of our requesting your presence. As to how he knew that this was a possibility, due to the fact that it would be a likelihood only if he knew of the ritual which would have also cleared your godfather of any wrongdoing if the proper magics were invoked by yourself, we cannot say. Therefore, we consider that if his claim is accurate, that it may be difficult for you to present yourself. If this is so then please respond in whatever means you may and if you request it, then we shall instead send a representative to your current location to meet with you.

“Please accept our condolences as to the loss of your godfather. We look forward to doing business with you. And it is signed, Sliptooth, Black Family Account Manager.”

Looking up, Hermione saw that Harry had gone still. His hands were clenched in to fists at his side and any sense of joy and calm were gone from him. Wanting to help, she stepped toward him, but Harry reversed a step and held up a hand.

“Hermione, I love you, but right now I’m going to need to ask you a favor please.”

She was Confused. “Of course.”

“I need a moment to sort this out. Could you please respond and let them know that I would appreciate them sending someone? I’ll be out back, I just need fresh air right now. Thank you and I’m sorry. Thank you Ruth as well.”

He spun about and trailed along the wall until he exited the kitchen. A moment later she heard the back door open and close quietly.

“Well,” her mum said, “considering the contents of the letter, he handled that rather well. I’m impressed.”

Her mum was right. Perhaps only a month or two ago Harry would’ve been furious and ranting. While he certainly did seem furious, he was managing it much more maturely now. She tried not to feel bad about thinking he had been immature; after all they were only teenagers and this was when they changed and learned loads about themselves and how to handle life in general. Harry had grown a lot in the last year, much of it forced.

Waving farewell to her mother after exchanging a few words, Hermione penned a brief response, thanking Gringots for their consideration and welcoming the suggestion. Their letter had concerned her but she pushed thoughts of it away, preferring to speak with Harry about it rather than speculate for herself. It was his life after all; as much as others seemed to want to take control of it for him. The owl took her response as if it were doing her a favor and Hermione rose to look for her boyfriend.

What she wasn’t expecting was to see him standing waist deep in the shallow end of the pool, dripping wet and scowling with his hands on his hips. His cane was bobbing up and down a fair distance away from him as if to taunt his error. Hermione put a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the giggle, but failed spectacularly. Harry turned his glare on her.

“What?” he demanded.

“You’re just, so, adorable. I mean you look like a wet cat that forgot it was bath day.”

His expression twisted between his attempt to glower and the clear amusement that was seeping in to him. “A wet cat eh? Well it’s too bad you’ll have to come and help me out. I’m blind you see and could hurt myself.”

Still giggling, she humored him and kicked off her shoes to step down in to the shallows. If he wanted to play this game then she was happy to oblige him. Before reaching him she took a deep breath because if the dolt didn’t dunk her then she’d have to have the breath to yell at him or something womanly out of place and unwarranted.

He didn’t disappoint, but was graceful about it. Where most boys would’ve likely just knocked her over, he instead grabbed her in his arms and rolled her with him smirking like a devious fiend. Oh how cute he was when he thought he was getting away with something. Thanks to the shallow water it was easy to resurface which she did before flicking her now water laden hair at him which sent a spray of cool drops in his face. She took his arm and pulled him towards the steps out of the water.

“Alright then Mr. Helpless. Let’s at least put on our swim clothes before going for a dip.”

“It wasn’t my fault, I just fell in.”

“Too bad. You started it and now you’d better go through with it.”

She left him at a lawn chair where she had set his trunks earlier and moved over to her own. He couldn’t see after all, so changing in front of him wasn’t really a concern.

“We…we’re changing right here?” he stuttered.

“Oh don’t be a baby. I’m turning my back to you.”

“But…but…”

“Potter, if you don’t get naked and put your swim trunks on before I turn back around then it’s not my fault now is it?”

She heard him grumbling but he was going forward with it at least. Hermione pulled off her wet clothes as quickly as she could. She was trying not to worry about how he would feel about her appearance. After all, he couldn’t see her. But part of her wanted him too. Would it be way too forward for their relationship to let him feel what she looked like? The mere thought excited her, both because of the thought of his hands on her, but also the knowledge that that would be taking a huge step in their relationship, probably prematurely, and it appealed to her.

After pulling the top of her two piece on, she couldn’t help but take a quick peek, hoping he was too slow. His shorts were on and he was straightening to put a swim shirt on, when she saw it. The one thing he didn’t want her to see, hence the shirt. White scars across his back, thick and twisted, as if they’d been carved there over and over again. Oh, yes his back was scarred all over, but the majority of it was light scarring, possibly from a belt. But this, this was, hellish. Five large pale marks across his back that spelled a single word, the scars roughly forming the hated letters like the mark of the devil himself.

FREAK

**GITLOH**

Harry had to admit to himself he was feeling strangely excited. Hermione, unlike any other was able to bring him from a towering rage to virginal excitement in a matter of seconds. Yes he was worried about getting himself ready quickly enough, but this was Hermione, she wouldn’t…

With the shirt half on, he stopped. It sounded like a pot was boiling but different. It sounded like a very large pot was boiling.

The pool?

What could make the pool boil?

He yanked the shirt on the rest of the way and turned to face his fire. He couldn’t explain it, but that joy he felt from her was almost tangible in a way, like a physical warmth. And right now, that warmth was burning hot and furious.

She had seen.

He’d come to terms with his scars a while ago. They didn’t mean anything other than that the Dursleys hated him, which was fine because in a year he would never have to see them again, and it was possible that they could be healed with magic. Being okay with them in private was one thing though; sharing the pain with another was entirely different. Or was it? After all, Hermione was the one person least likely to judge him for it.

He moved forward, knowing there was nothing in between them. His feet pressed against the hot wood of the deck but he didn’t care, all he cared about was the inferno, the beautiful inferno before him. He could tell when he was close, sound was absorbed by her body as it was with any object. He slowed and reached out a hand to touch where he hoped her shoulder was.

Her voice was hard when she spoke, making him pause.

“I am going to kill them.”

In a way it was sweet because who else would stand up for him like this, but in another sense it was terrifying to hear such hatred in her beautiful voice. He reached forward.

“Did you hear me? I’m going to kill them.”

His hand found her shoulder and he pulled her in to his arms, against her sudden attempts to step back. “How about we worry about that later okay? Yes, we’ll talk about it, but not right now. Right now I want to spend time with you. Let’s just calm down, get in the water when it’s back to normal temperature again, and we can talk, alright?”

“But I’m angry and I don’t want to talk.”

“You, not talking? But it is the closest to reading as you can get without a book in your hand.”

And with that, the fire burned low. She sagged against him and punched him lightly in his ribs. “Git.”

Harry smiled as the adrenaline he hadn’t realized was building in his system faded. It didn’t matter who you were dealing with, when someone was putting out that much accidental magic, anything could happen.

“Um, Harry? What did you mean about the pool?”

He chuckled. “Well, My Fire, I think you brought it to boil.”

She peered around him then moaned and buried her face in his shoulder. “Damn, there’s no way we’re swimming in that any time soon.”

“Aw, I wanted to learn how to swim from a pretty girl in a bathing suit.” He pouted.

“Well, I could still teach you how to hold your breath.”

“Oh?”

“MMM.”

Over the next few minutes he learned just how good kissing was at teaching you to hold your breath. Yup positive reward systems absolutely worked wonders.

**GITLOH**

Harry stirred, easing awake when he felt Hermione shift against him. They had ended up sitting on one of the lawn chairs when Hermione had grown tired, likely from her magical outburst. Harry had obliged her and cuddled with her while she slept, eventually succumbing to the warmth of the sun as well. He had managed this only by forcing himself to ignore the fact that a very scantily clad Hermione was half on top of him. He’d gotten a closer look at her like he’d wanted, but he somehow felt like he’d just been given a loaded gift. Harry had already known Hermione was beautiful, but knowing how she felt was almost too much to store in his brain. It created dangerous responses he didn’t want to deal with.

She stirred again.

“I don’t want to hear it, but please tell me.”

With a sigh, Harry gave Hermione a gentle squeeze before gathering his thoughts.

“You’re going to not like me saying this but hear me out okay? I’m okay with them. Yeah I don’t want people knowing about it, but that is kind of obvious. The thing is that I’m pretty sure magic can heal them and after next year I’ll be free of the Dursleys.

“Yeah they were pretty brutal, but I can tell you honestly I don’t remember much of it. I don’t know if I was just unconscious from the pain or if I kind of blocked it out. It is really bad and what I remember is awful, but even though Voldemort still has it out for me, everything about my life is a hundred times better. Especially with you in it. I can handle the crap.”

Hermione’s hand cupped his cheek and he heard her sigh through her nose. “I believe you. You’re right, I don’t like it. No child, no person should have to just accept that as part of their life, but I’m glad you’re not letting it destroy you. I think though that either a therapist or a mind healer would benefit you though; it can really help with trauma. And how the hell are you not in a rage about it? You’re fifteen, you’re supposed to be on a rampage. Are you sure you’re my Harry Potter?”

“Nope. Not Harry.”

“Prat. It was a rhetorical question.”

“Nope, still not Harry. Who is he though, he sounds like a nice fellow?”

“Answer the question Potter.”

He grinned. “I thought the question was rhetorical.”

She buried her face against his chest and was reduced to growling in a strangely adorable way. He heard intermittent words about his head and frying pans, but aside from that it was rather animalistic in nature. That was until he decided that a tickle war was the best way to prove his superiority.

A war he ended up losing somehow.

Damn.

That was alright though, she was cute.

Once they’d calmed down again, he felt she’d earned an answer to her rhetorical question.

“Honestly? I’m furious about it, but I think that when I put it in perspective, the Dursleys aren’t really a problem for my overall survival. Voldemort is really the one destroying my life, or at least trying his damn best to do so. My aunt and uncle can do what they want as far as I’m concerned. I’m done with them. Why go mad about it?”

Her next sentence was punctuated with a kiss between each word. “Stop, being, so, darn, mature. But what about the Sirius thing?”

He felt his eyes narrow which was an interesting sensation when it didn’t change your vision in any way. “Yeah well, that’s different. It kind of sounded like Dumbledore could’ve gotten Sirius cleared, and I don’t like him trying to run my life.”

“It doesn’t look good to me either.” Hermione mused. “What about an attorney? They could be a good person to figure some of these things out with. I know some things about the magical legal system from my research in third year, but that would be a great resource.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Probably expensive though. I don’t want to go flaunting that I have one, if we go through with this. I don’t like my money as it is.”

“I know love, but why don’t we talk to mum and dad when they get home and see what they think about it. It could be really helpful.”

“I’ll stop being mature if you stop being right all the time.”

**GITLOH**

*Chapter Updated: 3rd December, 2018

Elise


	7. Connecting the Dots, Part 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 7:

Connecting the Dots,

Part 1

Albus Dumbledore was pacing again. He didn’t normally like to do this, but it was hard enough maintaining a serene exterior when in the presence of others, so he allowed himself this one freedom while in solitude. Pacing.

Every trip across his office ended in a turn either left or right, that forced him to face Fawks where he sat on his perch. He had to do this, if only to remind himself that he was in this life, accountable to his Phoenix, if no one else. But beyond that, he was accountable to an ideal, a path of expected intention, and if he failed in that, his friend would leave. The threat had been there several times, but always he had been able to reason himself in to keeping on the path of light. What many people didn’t know was that the Phoenix to whom you were bonded, was in part subject to your own thoughts. No, someone like Tom couldn’t convince a Phoenix he was light, but Albus knew he himself had some wiggle room. At least it kept him honest.

Come to think of it, the last time he had been marching back and forth across his office had been almost exactly one year ago; just after Tom returned to a body of flesh and Albus had determined to distance himself from Harry. This was becoming far too frequent. What would his brother think of him showing such frailty at a time like this?

Pivot left 180 degrees.

His power was diminishing. Yes, that influence Albus had not even wanted in the first place, but nonetheless become attached to, was fading, piece by piece. No longer was he Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and though he had been reinstated there as a common member as well as his post as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Albus knew his time was coming. The younger part of him was glad and relieved at the removal of responsibility, but the tactical mind he had developed over the years knew that Albus Dumbledore was losing his grip on the magical world. A fact only compounded by the Goblins’ refusal to comply with his wishes.

His visit to Gringots had been entirely normal. They had complied with his instructions and told Albus that after they informed Mr. Potter of the will being relayed solely to his magical guardian, they would convey the contents to the Headmaster immediately. And when the Gringots owl had arrived on his desk only moments ago…

Pivot right 180 degrees.

…he had been prepared to accept whatever it was that Sirius had left Harry. Their letter had been brief and succinct, leaving Albus to wonder if he had miscalculated somehow, or if the Goblins were purposefully blocking him for some reason. If there was one thing Albus couldn’t stand, it was a lack of information. He was a planner, an organizer, a chess player. He needed information!

Why would the Goblins suddenly deny his influence as Harry’s magical guardian? Why would the Goblins, who were normally very precise, not give him an explanation? Why wo…

Pivot left 180 degrees.

…uld the Goblins risk instigating a legal response for something like a will reading? Why would the Goblins risk something as large as another war simply for this? The last was a bit…

Pivot right 180 degrees.

…of a stretch, but knowing the Ministry, it was hard to predict where they would go simply to keep the Goblins in order.

What had he missed?

…

Pivot left 180 degrees.

…

Pivot right 180 degrees.

The only clue he had was that the letter had stated that they had received a response from Harry. Which meant a response from Ms. Granger, since Harry clearly couldn’t read or write any longer. That certainly Albus had miscalculated. Harry starting a relationship with Ms. Granger? He loved the boy like a son, but he wasn’t supposed to have grown a backbone. The entire point of the plan was for Harry not to have one, not to stand up for himself, not to have potent reasons to hold on. To be willing to sacrifice his happiness and life for that of others. Unfortunately there was only one way to remove the horcrux from Harry. The only blessing was that Albus would not live to witness that awful moment.

Unless he really had miscalculated.

Love was the power after all. Was it possible?

Pivot left 180 degrees.

Was it possible that his relationship with Hermione could actually help him? Again, Albus did not have the information he needed.

And then there was the prophecy.

That prophecy that said Harry absolutely must fight Tom. And now their savior was blind. Foolish boy. Who knew the horrors that might now befall them because of a simply foolish spell cast on himself. Would Tom become more bold? Would Harry even be able to contend with him now?

Pivot right 180 degrees.

Was there even hope?

Perhaps Albus should consider reworking his plans, which might mean that he might have to delay his entrance to the next great adventure.

**GITLOH**

Hermione toweled the loose moisture from her hair and slipped in to her pink nightgown. Outside the window, the deep purples and blues of the Saturday evening were fading to greys and black as if beckoning sleep forth from her awakened mind. This summer, as brief as it had been thus far, was already the best of them. It wasn’t that she and her family had done anything extravagant; no, it was that Harry was with them. And while Harry was with them, Hermione was alive. She had never been a giggly girl or an overly excitable one, but even her parents had noticed the change in her, and were pleased with it. Change could be for the better and it was all she could do to keep herself from dropping to her knees before Harry and blubbering about how much, realism and happiness he had brought to her life. She wasn’t simply a bookworm any longer, she was a teenager; a girl who could be funny and laugh along with others. She was someone who could feel pretty, feel relaxed, feel goofy.

And best of all? Hermione Granger, for the first time, didn’t have to use her book smarts to feel worthwhile.

That was a hard one for her too. She felt guilty for having always felt that way, especially since her parents were so loving and had never intentionally made her feel that way. But they were very intelligent in their own right, and as an only child, one who had been bullied in school for her looks and her teeth, and her propensity to delve in to the words borne within novels and texts, Hermione had drifted in to the need to be worthwhile to others the only way she could. By being intelligent.

And now? And now she had someone who could make her brain go fuzzy with a kiss and take away her words with a smile; and yet make her feel like the brightest girl he knew. It didn’t matter that she probably was, it mattered that he thought so. For once, she didn’t have anything to prove, and best of all, she was worth something to him, even when she wasn’t spouting information.

Ironically, she rather liked it when he would put a finger to her lips while she was in the middle of a logical tirade, kiss her, then ask her to simplify it for him. She knew he valued her words, but there was something about how he did it that made her, glow.

She took up her brush and left the steamy washroom to make her way down to the living room. She was the last to shower for the evening and they were going to discuss Harry’s relatives. Clearly not the most joyful topic to end a fun day with, but Harry had been the one to suggest they discuss it tonight. On their ride home from the beach he had held her hand, thanking them for letting him be a part of their summer and stated that he felt ready to discuss the matter properly. Yes she was worried about what she would learn. Yes she was likely going to be angry. Yes he was going to tell her to relax and yes she was going to rant and rave at some point. But that was okay because damn it, someone had to love him properly.

Downstairs she found her parents seated in the two chairs that faced the sofa across the low table in the center. Her mother was telling a story, clearly about a younger Hermione, while her father and Harry laughed. And even while not taking his attention from the story, Harry’s head tilted to the side as it always did when he knew she was nearby. It was one of those things he just instinctively did, and she, even she, the uncertain Hermione, knew he did it because he just wanted to hear her. Even as he laughed, he listened for her, something her father pointed out to her mother with a smile. The two of them smiled at her with knowing winks as she joined Harry on the sofa. She slid in to his arms and Harry breathed in deeply through his nose before resting his head on her shoulder and sighing, “You make me want the whole world to smell like lavender.”

She whispered “I love you.” And squeezed him all the tighter, because what else could she do to express how amazing he was?

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mom reach over and lightly slap her dad’s arm. “Why can’t you be that sweet?”

Her dad grinned and leapt from the chair to kneel before his wife, taking her hand in his. “Ah, dear lady, but it is simply because your incredible beauty dazzles me, taking away my words and thoughts, leaving me bereft of all but my love for you.”

Even Hermione had to admit that was well done. Damn Men’s Alliance Against Women of Evil.

Once the jerks had been grudgingly hugged to death for their sweetness—it’s not like it was the ladies’ fault men could make them swoon with the right words—they settled in to their seats, suitably relaxed for the understandably difficult discussion ahead. Hermione sat to Harry’s left, her hip and shoulder touching his, and began brushing her hair, partially because she needed to, and partially to give herself something to keep her relaxed. But she hadn’t gotten past the third stroke when Harry gently took the brush from her hand and with a soft hand to her shoulder, guided her down to rest in his lap. She couldn’t help it and squeed, scrambling to curl up on the cushion with her head on his lap. God she loved him. With one arm beneath her and her left hand resting on his thigh in front of her nose, she met her parents’ gazes.

“Mum?”

“Yes love?”

“I’m keeping him.”

Harry started to run the brush through her damp curls and suddenly she felt strong enough to make it through this discussion. Oh it wasn’t due to natural weakness or anything foolish like that. But whatever he had gone through hadn’t destroyed him so much that he couldn’t show her how much he loved her in gestures like this.

“Yes dear, you are.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes Pumpkin?”

“Don’t worry, I love you too.”

She saw a tear come to his eye and his response was strangled. “I know Pumpkin, I know.” He cleared his throat and stood up. “How about some chamomile tea? Anyone?”

Without waiting for a response he moved off in to the kitchen. Her mum smiled at her and went to join her husband.

Hermione felt a little bad as she hadn’t intended to make it that serious, but she knew her dad had understood. She and Harry stayed in silence but for the sound the brush made passing through her hair and the distant noise of the tea pot rising to a boil. And that was just another thing she loved about him. While they could be chatty and talk the night away, they were similarly able to sit in silence without it being uncomfortable. As an avid reader, Hermione had developed a huge appreciation for silence, and it meant so much that Harry was similar. Thus they remained so until her parents returned several minutes later bearing tea. Hermione chose to leave hers since it would mean having to get up. She did however reach up and guide Harry’s hand to the handle of his tea cup on the table, before returning her hand to his thigh. He paused in his brushing to take a small sip and then placed his free hand upon the crown of her head as he continued his work. She didn’t need the tea, he was doing more for her than it ever would.

“I want to start by saying that I know what the Dursleys did was wrong. No I don’t know exactly how wrong since I haven’t had loads of examples, but I know at least, that it was wrong. That said, I do not hate them. I simply don’t care about them.” He was silent for a moment before continuing. That was essentially what he had said to her the other day so it was not surprising. Her parents seemed to approve, but they also gave each other looks of concern.

“For the first years of my life, I didn’t know my name or my birthday. I was called Freak, because they hate magic, and me as a result.” Her parents tensed but kept silent. “My Hogwarts letter was addressed to Mr. Harry Potter, the cupboard under the stairs. Only after that did I get Dudley’s second bedroom that was filled with all his broken toys.”

Silence but for the repetitive passing of the brush through her hair. She could see the anger in her parents as their nervous habits showed themselves while they fought to remain silent. Her mother was dragging her fingers through her own hair as if to remove snarls she had already brushed away. Her father was fidgeting with his watch band. Both their faces were twisted, eyes narrowed. It took Harry’s free hand sliding down her head to rest on top of her own, for Hermione to realize she had been digging her fingers in to his leg. Her jaw was clenched and she noticed that his other hand had paused, the brush somewhere below her left ear. Bright of him. She would have to push his arm out of the way to sit up. She had to force herself to relax her hand so she would stop hurting him.

“Again, I want to be clear, I’m okay. I’m not sharing this to make you all angry, I just, I think this is the time for me to share it for once.” Harry took a deep breath. “Hermione already knows, but after first year, they put bars on my windows and locked me in my room, sending my food through a cat flap they installed in the door. When I was younger, my cousin’s favorite game was Harry Hunting with his friends, so I learned to run faster than them. I was responsible for the cooking, even if I was sick or still recovering from, from a beating. I don’t want to go in to details, but suffice to say I have scars. Those can be healed by magic though, thankfully.”

How could anyone do that to a child? How could they do that to her Harry, her sweet Harry? They were monsters, nothing more.

“When Dumbledore left me on their doorstep as a baby, he left them a letter explaining how my parents died. They chose to tell me that my parents were drunks who died in a car crash. I never got presents or hugs, or my own clothes, or any friends. But I think that’s why I just appreciate those things more now than most people do. Not that I know what I’m doing most of the time, but still.”

He trailed off uncertainly

She wasn’t crying. Whether that was a result of all the tears, both happy and sad, that had been shed in the past weeks, or because she was beyond tears, Hermione did not know. She rolled over on to her back and with gentle fingers took the brush from his hand to set it on the table. She took his hands in her own, bringing one to hold it to her heart, and the other to her lips. No one spoke, but she heard her parents stand up and upside down she watched as her mum sat on Harry’s other side to envelop him in a weepy hug. Her dad stood over them both, resting a hand to Harry’s shoulder.

And so they four stayed for precious minutes in solemn support. Though Hermione couldn’t see her mother’s face, she could watch as her father bore a grimace, his other hand gripping that same face as if trying to hold his anger inside. It pained her to see them so torn, and yet they were all torn, sharing that same anger and sorrow for someone who wasn’t looking for pity. And even as she lay there, clutching desperately to Harry’s hands, her thoughts were slow, minimal, in a place in time she would have expected an avalanche.

“You son,” Her father broke the silence with slowly drawn words, as if he were filtering them past his anger. “will never be treated like that again. I know you don’t want pity, but if you will accept our love and support, I think we might yet move everyone through this.”

Her Harry nodded, and then, “I think that might be good for me too. I’ve said to Hermione in a letter that I don’t really have good examples of love in my life. But,” he took the hand she was holding to her lips and began lightly stroking her forehead. “I think I’m learning. Thank you, all three of you.”

Her father leaned forward and briefly joined his wife in hugging Harry. When he withdrew, he took her mum with him and returned to their chairs.

“Mione, you okay down there?” Harry asked quietly.

She shook her head once. “You remember what I said at the pool?” He nodded. “That about sums it up. I’m not angry, I’m livid. I don’t wish them pain, I wish they weren’t alive. People like that shouldn’t make this world a darker place simply by being. Does it make me awful for thinking that?”

Harry shook his head but it was her father who spoke. “It is not wrong to think that Pumpkin, it is how you go about your life that matters.” She rolled her head to the right to meet his eyes. “If anything, I am sorry people exist that make you feel that way. You’re a good person Hermione and honestly, the worst thoughts and words come out of us when someone hurts those we love.”

“But is there anything we can actually do about this?” She knew her question sounded desperate, even her own ears picked that up. But for once the world around her was broken and her father was present. For once, the three people in her life who could magically fix any problem were there. Harry was her hero, no doubt about that, but being away from her parents so much over the past years had both revealed many of their flaws to her, and strengthened her belief, as childish as it was, that they could fix anything. And she knew her daddy could see that in her eyes by the look of determination he adopted.

“I’m not sure darling,” her mother started up, “But let’s break this down a little alright? Can you tell us why you were left on their doorstep as a baby Harry?”

Her boyfriend started to speak, paused, then angled his head down to her and asked, “How much?”

How much. How much did they know about the war and how much should he share. That was something she’d never really shared with him and Ron. With the bonds of trust she had built with her parents, there was no way she was going to keep the war a secret. That, or the happenings at Hogwarts. They had unexpectedly been very understanding. While they had balked at her having to deal with such insane circumstances, they could acknowledge that learning magic was the best way for their daughter to keep herself safe.

“They know.” At his surprised look, she continued, “I’ve told them most things. Anything they don’t know at this point won’t hurt to learn.” He still looked dubious. “We are all here for you Harry, regardless of what comes.”

“Yes, and knowing you were alongside her didn’t hurt her argument either.”

Harry frowned at her mum’s words. “But I’m the reason most bad things happen.”

She reached up and lightly cuffed his ear. “Stop being a dolt.”

“No, Hermione, perhaps he’s right.” She turned to look at her father and narrowed her eyes. Then she realized Harry couldn’t see the slight smirk on his face and relented. “So Harry, I presume we should hate you for being such a dangerous friend that you have made our daughter the happiest her mother and I have ever seen her?”

“Erm.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, let’s get on with this story. I want to be well rested to meet this Goblin tomorrow.”

“You’ve already met one dear.”

“Not like this I haven’t; only while they were glaring at us from behind their counter. This will be entirely different.”

She couldn’t help but giggle a little. The grin she heard in Harry’s voice next though brought an actual smile to her face.

“So I presume you are excited to meet a Goblin alone because you want to examine his teeth? I’m sure Sliptooth would be happy to leave you a nice molding, say perhaps, in your arm if you try to go anywhere near him with your horrid tools.”

They all laughed, even her father who was trying to look disappointed.

“Anyway, is it alright if I make it brief for now? After all, you do make a good point about the time.” Harry said, bringing sobriety back to them all.

“That is fine with me, we do have all summer to interrogate you after all.” That from her mother, not much of a jest either.

“There was a prophecy made before I was born that said I have to defeat Voldemort. Dumbledore said he needed to keep me safe as a child and that he wanted me to grow up without being famous, so he placed me with my only blood relatives.”

“Were they the chosen guardians in your parents’ wills?”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed a few times before words actually came out. “Uh, I wouldn’t know, I’ve never read them and no one has mentioned them either.”

“Hermione, could you write to Gringots and see if they can bring those as well tomorrow?”

“Yes mum. I’ll do it first thing in the morning, Hedwig won’t need long to get there.” She replied. It was a good point actually. Regardless of Dumbledore’s reasons, he should have still followed the wills.

“Good, thank you dear. Now, Harry love, the crimes the Dursleys have perpetrated against you, for they are that, crimes, are punishable by law. This is entirely up to you, but would you consider using the law to help you for once, and make them answer for what they have done?”

She loved her mother.

“I don’t…”

“Harry?”

“Yes love?”

Hermione reached up again to cup his cheek. “You are considering using an attorney to go after Dumbledore. If you would do it for what he has done, then please consider the same for what they have done to you. Yes, he has manipulated your life it would seem, but they have physically threatened yours. Please love, at least consider it.”

He kissed her palm. “Alright, I will, consider it. Let’s see what happens with the wills tomorrow and go from there alright?”

That she could accept.

“Good, that’s a start. Now, how accurate are prophecies in magic?” her dad asked.

“It’s hard to say daddy. We don’t really have much basis to determine that.”

“Yeah, all we really have is the one from Trelawney at the end of third year and we know that one was true.” Added Harry.

“So, fairly accurate, unfortunately.”

“Well, even if all we can do is support you, then Simon and I will. But you had better believe we are going to have words with that headmaster of yours for expecting you to fight a war for him.”

Her eyes not leaving Harry’s face, she saw him smile at her mother’s words. And if anything, he never lost hope entirely.

**GITLOH**

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I’m still getting used to people, supporting me.” Harry said, angling his head down toward the angel in his lap. “But thanks to certain bookworms, I think I’m starting to get the point.”

The hair brush somehow found itself shoved in to his hand again, and Hermione gave a playful humph before rolling back to her side. This was what he loved about her. That secret piece she kept hidden and yet revealed in her everyday self. When she ranted in a rage about something cruel that had happened to him; that was the same part of her that would hold him close and whisper how much she loved him. When Hermione exhausted herself researching something to help him win a blasted tournament; it was the same piece of her that would giggle and playfully tease him. And when Hermione stormed off to escape the idiocy, it was the same as when she demanded he continue brushing her hair by handing the brush back to him. Pictures, that was what they were. Glimpses in to the deeper parts of Hermione that no one but he saw.

It was precious and enthralling, and he was so blessed to be a part of it.

“Haha, you show him Pumpkin.” Harry tried to glare at Simon but the man only laughed harder. “Tell you what, that wasn’t the lightest of discussions and we all need our sleep. We are willing to let you two stay down here, together, for tonight. We know you two respect one another so the only requirement we will place is that you both will get “the talk” tomorrow from us. Sound fair?”

Harry couldn’t help the blush that he knew was burning away his cheeks, but he nodded and quietly thanked the Grangers. His fire, that wondrous heat that was laying across his lap seemed to grow warmer if only for a few seconds, before Hermione likewise thanked her parents. Was he imagining the temperature shift? It wasn’t physical heat though, it was hard to place.

“Alright then. Sleep well you two, we have a busy day tomorrow.” Ruth said, coming over to kiss them good night.

Harry had been in shock before, at least physically, but this didn’t feel all that different. Were they really allowing them to sleep together? Was he overreacting? Think Potter!

No one ever wanted the talk, especially not from your girlfriend’s father. But Simon had basically said he knew they wouldn’t do anything anyway. So then was it just because they thought he and Hermione might need comfort, to be near one another after that talk?

This was such new territory for him.

Trust.

Hermione’s parents disappeared up the stairs but his world had frozen. Friends helped each other. He was sort of learning what love was, at least in some respects. But trust?

Oh it was one thing for him to trust people; he trusted Hermione more than any three people put together. But people weren’t supposed to trust him. Why would anyone want to trust him? With something like this? With Hermione? Harry didn’t know if he trusted himself with her at that.

Warm arms encircled him and Harry realized he hadn’t even noticed her sit up.

“What is it Love? You alright?” Her voice was soft and her breath warm. And she was close to him. And no walls existed that Hermione couldn’t jump over with her mere presence.

“They trust us. They trust me.” He’d meant it to come out a bit stronger than it did, but at least she had already accepted his weaknesses.

“Oh sweetie, of course they do.” How did she always know when it was more than just the surface words? “You know I trust you too right?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But you don’t in a way?”

He didn’t know what to say. It was true though, and he didn’t mean it in any negative way towards her, it was just…

“Harry.”

Hermione’s lips ever so gently brushed his and she spoke against his mouth, her breath gusting across his lips and cheeks. “I love you, that means trust.” She kissed him, more solidly this time.

“I know you love me, and I love you too, it’s just, trust. Trust is different isn’t it? And I don’t mean anything bad by it, I just don’t know why you’d trust me. Does that make sense? Merlin that was awful.”

Hermione kissed him in to silence. “Tell you what, I’m going to use the loo, then you are. Then we’re going to come back here, cuddle, talk, and sleep in each other’s arms again. Got it?”

“Uh.”

Good.

She poked him in the ribs then stood and padded off toward the loo. He loved just hearing her walk, the sound of her weight dispersed on the floor, the sound of the carpet ever so quietly brushing the skin of her feet, the sound of her thighs sliding past one another. The simple things that let him know she was there. And when she returned, he sensed her before he heard her; that steady warmth returning to his world, like a hearth in the winter.

When instead of returning to the sofa Hermione took up the tea cups, Harry knew that was her telling him to get moving. It was her way of saying that she knew he would listen and so she wasn’t going to tell him twice. It was sweet and terrifyingly familiar. No, they hadn’t been friends for several years, they’d been together without realizing it.

With a smile upon his face, Harry rose and shuffled off to do his business. She was standing next to the sofa when he returned.

“Lay down.”

Seeing no decent reason to argue, Harry complied. The air moved beside him and Hermione crawled on top of him, draping a blanket over their bodies. If he was being honest, it wasn’t all that comfortable. But in situations like these, comfort wasn’t all that important. He would sleep every night without comfort if it meant she was laid across him like this. She snaked her arms beneath his shoulders and brought her head to rest on his shoulder. They squirmed a bit trying to make it as comfortable in the cramped space as possible before sharing a kiss in satisfaction. No one would be rolling off the sofa tonight. Hopefully.

“Do you know what I think of to make my Patronus?”

“What?” Hermione, queen of non sequiturs.

“Two things actually. I think of that night when you took away two of my fears, just over two years ago.”

Harry was still confused.

“First when you stood across the lake from a hundred dementors and sent a glowing silver stag to scatter them without a trace. I don’t know what you think of dementors, but they are demons, nothing more. To take the soul from a person is to take everything that makes them who they are. It is blasphemy. I don’t know if I believe in God anymore or not, but they are still as evil as they come. And in a matter of seconds you showed me that as awful as they are, as awful as a hundred of them are, you, yes you, could rid us of them. You showed me that as terrifying as they were, there was hope and beauty still. With that Patronus you saved all of our lives. And don’t say you didn’t know what you were doing. You still saved each and every one of us.”

Harry didn’t have the words to respond. She nuzzled his cheek until he turned his head to the side where Hermione met him with a kiss. “Do you have any idea how much that moment means to me? I was fourteen and the one person I cared more for than anyone other than my parents created something so beautiful and powerful that it scared away a small army of demons and saved our lives in the process. I don’t need to hero worship you darling, I love you, and if I didn’t know it before then, well I certainly figured it out pretty quickly.”

All he could do was hold her close and run his fingers through her hair and across her back. Harry still wasn’t sure how trust came in to this, but he couldn’t deny any longer that she loved him. It was clear, a relief in its own right.

“I love you too Hermione. I, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t say anything yet, you just let me keep talking until I’m done explaining why I trust you so much.”

“You’re adorable you know that?”

“Yup.”

“And you know you’re going to get it one of these days right?”

“Nope.”

He kissed her, hard. A soft moan left her throat and Hermione’s lips opened for his questing tongue. With the taste of her in his mouth and her body atop his, Harry wanted nothing more than to make that fire above him burn brighter than ever. She was quiet, but the little noises Hermione made while they kissed sent his lizard brain in to overdrive and it wasn’t helping their current situation. His body was responding and by the growing warmth of Hermione’s presence, he knew hers was as well. They were riding a wave of romantic emotion and as dangerous as physical need was, he knew in that moment that romantic intensity was all the more insidious and tempting for its seeming innocence.

Hating to have to do it, Harry slowly pulled away from the kiss, drawing a piteous whimper from his girlfriend. She buried her face in his shoulder and clenched her hands beneath him.

“Uuuuugh, why does this have to be so hard?”

“Oh, sorry if it’s poking you.”

Silence.

Hermione slowly lifted her head and he could tell she was staring at him but not what she was feeling. Her body started to tremble and then she had to stifle an outburst of laughter which meant Hermione snorted and gently nipped at his shoulder as she tried to keep quiet.

“Oh my God you’re such a prat.”

“Yup, but you know you love it.”

She growled at him, and of course it was the most adorable thing she did and he loved irritating her enough to do it. A little Hermione treasure that she was far too dignified to do in front of anyone else.

“Oh I’ll tell you what I love.”

She nuzzled his jaw, lifting his chin just a little. Hermione’s lips found his throat, and Harry’s brain stopped working.

When thought returned, Hermione was sliding his earlobe through her lips.

“Who always wins?”

When had he started panting? “You do.”

She giggled, moving her lips to his ear and whispering in to it. “Good boy.”

Yup, she was both evil and sexy, and going to kill him one day.

“You evil minx.”

“So?”

“I love you all the more for it. Just try not to kill me okay?”

“Okay.” With one last kiss to the tender flesh of his throat she returned her head to his shoulder. This time he could tell she was most certainly wearing a very self-satisfied grin.

Evil.

“Ahem, so, how about that other reason?”

“Reason about what?”

He began to gently knead the muscles at the back of her neck, eliciting a soft moan from the terrifying creature on top of him.

“Oh, yeah, that reason. Mmmmm. Well, the other fear was flying. I don’t like it, it terrifies me. It’s too free without my ability to control it. Oooh just a little lower. But you flew Buckbeak and at first I just wanted to die, but holding on to you like that, it just…”

She was practically purring while she talked which of course made Harry grin. Yes, she might be an evil minx, but he could still get her back sometimes.

“I don’t know. I mean, you’d just made me realize I love you, and flying with you in my arms wasn’t helping matters. You took my breath away. And you know what?”

He smiled. “What?”

“No one else could’ve made me fly Buckbeak. I just wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.”

“So you’re telling me you are stubborn?”

“Mmmmm. God that feels good. But no, I’m trying to say I love you. But things like that make me trust you. How could I not?”

Harry sighed. “I guess I get it. I’m just not used to it, I don’t know how to feel about people trusting me. Trust was always this thing I could never have. I was supposed to trust the people around me but never have it for myself.”

“Well you do.”

She was getting sleepy now and her voice was quiet and sluggish.

“Okay.”

Harry turned to kiss her cheek and gave her a gentle squeeze. As badly as he wanted her, he loved this. He loved relaxing her with a touch because she was so cute when sleepy. But the part of him that spoke with Hermione’s voice said that it was because she felt safe with him and trusted him that allowed this to happen.

And Harry Potter decided to accept that.

“Harry?”

“Mmm?”

“I want to.”

“I do to Love. One day.”

“Not today?”

“No darling, not today. Today you sleep.”

“Okay.”

Holding her while she fell asleep and laying beneath her while she slept were his two favorite things. He might have to hug her parents in gratitude. And though he laid awake for who knew how long just reveling in holding her, rest still found him. The rest of knowing you are close with a lover, close with the one you can’t be apart from. That peace in discomfort, that peace that is more restful than the sleep that finally claims you.

He might have cast a Patronus to save their lives two years ago, but moments like these made him feel as if he could cast a dozen.

**GITLOH**

*Chapter Updated: 3rd December, 2018

Elise


	8. Connecting the Dots, Part 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 8:

Connecting the Dots,

Part 2

Hermione awoke to rebellion.

The blanket of foggy and etherial disassociation from one’s physical body lifted from her mind, and was replaced with something her body wasn’t used to. She felt warmth both inside and out. Oh yes there was a blanket atop her and that was lovely, but nothing compared to the warm body she was straddling. Her thoughts started to pick up speed as they connected with the sensory input she was receiving. That warm body was Harry. He had slept with her, or at least on the sofa with her. Her face was pressed in to the curve of his neck and not only could she smell only him, but she felt every beat of his heart. Hermione felt every movement as he breathed and wished she could stay there all day.

And then there was the rebellion.

As she faded in to awareness, her body came aware of something warm pressing against her through thin layers of fabric, between the legs that were spread on either side of his. That pressure was provoking sensations within her that Hermione wasn’t even ready to process. And so her body rebelled and began moving against that hard warmth.

The clarity that had been steadily returning for the day retreated against the onslaught of feelings that Hermione’s body considered alien and so new, that they overpowered her mind before her analytical brain could obtain mastery. All alone, the sole coherent thought passing through her was that somehow, Harry was causing this. Giving her this.

She moved and her core responded, spreading delicious and addictive pulses of warm greed through her. Moving as she was, her chest responded as well and it felt as if the three centers were calling to one another, pulling and spreading the need throughout her. All that existed was rhythm and inexplicable greed.

Some part of her realized she was breathing harder and that the body beneath her was waking and moving against her. Her fervor grew and a distant point of salvation appeared, and there was a path to it within reach.

“Hermione?”

There was a code, a system, a rhythm to satisfaction. Like music, if the proper notes were struck then salvation came ever closer. Her body knew this and only she existed.

“Hermione, we shouldn’t.”

The voice was of her love, but it was annoying her. The hands and arms that were trying to lift her away from what she wanted weren’t appreciated either. Why would he push her away, this was good, and she was so close. Whatever noises she knew she was making must be telling him that.

“Hermione, stop.”

He shifted a certain way, lifting her with his thighs so that her core was taken away from the object of its satisfaction. She growled and pushed down, trying to get it back, and then...

Clarity was like a hammer that smote all feelings of pleasure from within her, replacing them with cold anguish. Cold anguish and terror.

Oh God, what had she done?

She pushed herself up- and looked down on Harry’s face to see it twisted with, something, frustration? Disgust? Whatever it was, it was because of what she had been doing to him. That good feeling she had craved and stolen was what had caused him to push her away.

Get away, get away!

She needed something to do. It was one of her flaws; Hermione couldn’t just run, she had to run to something. What was there?

Something!

The letter!

She still had to send the letter to Gringots.

Given that allowance, Hermione pulled her arms from beneath Harry and rolled off, only allowing herself to curl up on the floor in shame for what felt like seconds before crawling to her feet and running to the kitchen. She was disgusting. No, he probably didn’t think she was, but what she had done to him was. Something that good had to come at the cost of someone else’s feelings, she knew it did. Everything had a cost.  
Everything.

**GITLOH**

Harry had slept like crap for all of his life. He slept in a cramped cupboard, he slept in Dudley’s extra bedroom, he slept with fear and he slept with the knowledge that he was a freak. At Hogwarts, Ron snored like a freaking rhinoceros and after meeting Quirrel in the forest near the end of first year, he slept with the fear of death.

For the years afterward, only the source of that fear changed. Oh it was always present because how could he unlearn that Tom wanted him dead? He couldn’t, and so not a night was entirely free of that darkness. And after the Department of Mysteries, he dreamt of those who had suffered for him. Hermione’s wound, Sirius’ death, Ron’s near miss with the brains, the wounds the others acquired. The shift after Tom’s failed possession was large, but apparently not significant enough to allow for proper rest.

Monitoring charms, dozens of them if Harry knew the matron, had been the only reasons he and Hermione had been permitted to share a bed in the hospital wing. When this permission had first been granted, Harry had struggled with the absurdity of it. He nor Hermione had been inclined to take advantage of the allowance; the simple ability to sleep near one another being enough for them. So they had slept in each other’s arms every night until the end of term, and Harry had enjoyed a significant relief from his nightly terrors.

They had not ceased entirely, but there was a great reduction in the fear that coursed through him in a primal wave of adrenaline, and he had not woken once.

And that was how he had slept this night, in relief and warmth.

Only to be awoken by the most erotic experience of his young life. At first thinking it was a dream while his mind grasped at awareness, Harry had responded by moving against Hermione. What hot-blooded male wouldn’t have?

“Hermione?”

It was glorious and amazing, and damn it if this wasn’t what he really wanted.

But the Grangers had put their trust in him, someone had trusted him. What would they do to him if they found out?

And Hermione was half asleep, even as plain arousing as the noises she was making were, they were muddled with sleepiness.

“Hermione, we shouldn’t.”

He was so close, and this was through their clothing, how amazing would it be when they finally had nothing keeping them apart? He didn’t want this to stop, but neither could this finish.

He was about to start hating himself for this.

“Hermione, stop.”

She wasn’t listening and Harry was straining to keep away that building orgasm that he knew would be both the best he had had, and the worst thing for their relationship. She wasn’t even fully awake, she could hate him if he allowed this to finish.

So he lifted up with his thighs, taking away the hot warmth of her groin from his, straining to both lift her and hold back the wave of pleasure.

His love growled and pushed down, hard, and Harry knew that in any other situation he would have given in. As it was, he thought that her clear sexual need might make him finish regardless of his attempted control.

Then she froze.

With a gasp, she rolled off of him and he heard her crumple to the floor, trying to catch her breath. For himself, it seemed that curling in to a ball was the only way to hide from the world that was about to start hating him again. All the good things he had gained in the last weeks, in the last few days, were about to be taken from him like so many more.

His Fire, the warm heat he loved so much was dim on the ground beside him and he had no idea how long they stayed so. She hated him. She was disgusted of what he had almost gotten from her. He knew she had wanted to be together, but not like this. Not while she was half asleep and vulnerable. He should have stopped her sooner, she might have been okay with it then, but this.

He heard her lurch to her feet and move off in to the kitchen. He seized the blanket beside him and curled himself up in to it, hiding like he once did in his tiny cupboard.

Away from the cold and light.

Away from the hatred.

Away from the empty.

Harry didn’t stop her when Hermione hurried past him upstairs. He tried not to listen to the sound of those steps he loved so much. He heard a door close and then silence. He didn’t know what time it was, and he didn’t know how long he lay there, but he noticed his own trembling when the sound of two people coming down the stairs reached his ears.

Crap.

They had trusted him.

And he had hurt their daughter.

It was over. It was all over.

He was going to go back to the Dursleys’

His Fire would be taken away from him. His world would be ice cold.

A hand touched his shoulder through the blanket and Harry realized he’d started crying.

“Harry darling, are you alright?”

Ruth Granger’s voice. That motherly affection he had never been shown from anyone before, would no longer be his.

“I’m, I’m fine ma’am.”

Damn! He’d slipped, she would catch that.

“Really now?”

The blanket was pulled off him, and though he gave a half-hearted attempt to hold on to it, he inevitably lost. Now they could see him, now they could hate him.

“Oh sweetie, what’s wrong?”

Her fingers ran through his hair and she took one of his hands in her own. But she didn’t ask any further questions, she just sat there with him. One of the chairs shifted, presumably Simon preparing himself for whatever horrors Harry was about to relay.

“I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys’.”

He hadn’t wanted the words to slip out, but they did all the same. No, it seemed he would not be allowed to escape the childish terror he felt. No hiding.

“Sweetie, you’re not going back to the Dursleys’. Want me to go get Hermione?”

He shook his head and squeezed Ruth’s hand

“Ah, it has to do with her doesn’t it?”

Crap, of course he’d given that away too. Damnit!

“Please don’t. I’m sorry.”

She lightly patted his head then the sofa cushions sank as she sat beside him. “Come on then love, let’s talk about it together first, alright?”

This was it, he was doomed. And he absolutely did not want to talk about this in front of Hermione’s mum. But it wasn’t like he could say that. His comfort didn’t matter, and asking a question like that would earn him who knew how many days without food.

So he pushed himself upright, curling his legs underneath him and clenching his hands in his lap.

**GITLOH**

Simon rubbed the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes and observed Harry as he sat up beside Ruth. The night before, he and his wife had silently agreed that the teens should be allowed to stay in each other’s comfort during the night. Their assurances that their healer at Hogwarts had placed charms on them to let her know if they had been engaged in amorous activities had calmed their concerns about the two having slept together for over a week. Seeing how the two interacted, Simon could tell that they respected each other and that Harry would not be trying to take advantage of his precious daughter. He probably should have hated the boy, but he just couldn’t.

Precious Hermione was completed by this boy who now hunched in to himself before the adults as if expecting a beating. Judging by what Harry had admitted to the night before, Simon thought it a reasonable expectation. He did however not have any idea what had caused this reaction, so he knew he needed information before he could judge the situation. Enough trauma had passed before Simon’s eyes to recognize when it could get in the way of solving a situation. So he tried to make sure he was addressing this safely so as not to shut Harry down more than he already was.

“Harry, son. Let’s do this. Let’s just talk about what happened and get the details out first. After that we can discuss where to go from here. Ruth and I don’t believe in judging before we know everything about a situation. Sound okay to you?”

A small nod. Harry’s hands were clenching so tight that his knuckles were whitening. Simon met Ruth’s eyes and nodded in Harry’s direction. She looked down and saw what Harry was doing to himself and took his hands. If there was anything he loved about her, it was her ability to give love to anyone who needed it. Ruth had nearly become a therapist, only deciding to stick with dentistry when she became too emotionally attached to her patients’ situations. She was his wonder, his darling. She had saved him far too many times to count.

“Alright then. Would you rather I ask questions, or do you feel comfortable telling us outright?” Instantly he knew that had come out wrong judging by how Harry’s face paled. “I don’t mean it like that son. What I mean is that I want you to be comfortable in this. If its easier to just answer yes or no to start then I’m okay with that.”

At Harry’s continued panic, he realized where he had made an error, but thankfully Ruth noticed it as well.

“Sweetie, it is important that you are comfortable. This isn’t an interrogation. We want to help you through this. You are not in trouble of any kind okay?”

Harry didn’t seem to be made any more comfortable by that.

“And,” Simon added, “there are no wrong answers. What we mean by that is that life happens and no one is perfect. But communicating is important and we want to focus on that first. What do you say?”

Harry’s nod was so short that Simon might have missed it. And something else was wrong. Harry wasn’t comfortable, and it wasn’t getting any better. Simon knew he wasn’t an expert or anything, but the word comfort and other variations of it had passed through his thoughts far too many times in the last few minutes. He could identify patterns when they presented themselves. It didn’t matter how they addressed whatever this was, Harry wouldn’t be brought through it in relative ease, thanks to his upbringing. The poor boy looked terrified.

“Thank you Harry. I think the most important question here is whether or not you were able to sleep on this awful sofa.” Ruth rolled her eyes at him and Harry just looked confused.

“Uh, yes sir. It wasn’t that uncomfortable at all.”

:Well darn, I’ve been trying to get Ruth to let me replace it for years.”

His lovely wife rolled her eyes again.

“So then, did something happen last night?”

Harry shook his head.

“So you were able to get to sleep okay together. Did it help to have company? And that’s not a trick question.”

“Yes sir, it did.”

Simon chose to ignore the title, Harry had, it would seem, been.well taught to resort to politeness when he thought he was in trouble. “I’m glad. I know it helped wen you two were at Hogwarts. It’s okay for that to be helpful, especially with couples. So did something happen this morning?” At Harry’s look of worry, Simon continued, “So who woke up first this morning then?”

“Uh, I, I think, I did sir.”

“Alright. That’s fine then. Did you wake Hermione up?”

“Yes, but. I…” he trailed off.

“Any particular reason you woke her up?”

“She was…. Dreaming, I think.”

“How did you know?”

“Hermione was, moving.”

Then it clicked and Simon made eye contact with his wife. Ruth responded with a small upturn of the corners of her mouth. Yes, she understood as well.

“How did you feel Harry?”

The poor boy paled further. “Good sir, but I wasn’t supposed to, and Hermione wouldn’t..”

“Ah. Ruth darling, I think having some toast might help our stomachs. Would you mind talking to Hermione so we can al sort this out together? From what I’m hearing Harry, you didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did Hermione. But this is a talk we should all have regardless.”

Simon stood and made his way in to the kitchen. Yes the teens seemed to have had an uncomfortable experience, but from what he was seeing, it seemed that they had withdrawn from one another rather than getting mad, or making bad decisions. He could be upset, but he and Ruth had known that this could be an awkward morning if anything had happened. So he made them all toast and tea, knowing that at least their withdrawal could be turned in to discussion. If they had reacted to one another with anger, it would be harder to reshape it. Was he really about to have this conversation with his daughter and the young man she was dating? He might just need to add a little something to his tea.

When he returned to the living room, Ruth was still upstairs. He placed the food on the low table and sat back in his chair.

“I’m going to tell you a secret son.” Harry blanched and fumbled for the plate of toast. Yeah, he likely needed fortification as well. “Men and women enjoy and want sex just as badly as the other. The thing is that we all approach and acknowledge it differently. We also place different pressures on ourselves. So before the ladies join us, I’m going to tell you, as much as I don’t really want to, that Hermione likely feels the same way about it that you do. So what that means is that no one deserves any blame for wanting it too badly. It is natural. I’ll give you the, “hands off my daughter” talk later, but for now, don’t beat yourself up for it any more than you would Hermione.”

“But I wouldn’t, and I know she wants it…”. The words froze in his mouth and he looked horrified.

“Haha, its alright son. But that is exactly the point. Everyone deserves to have things they enjoy as log as it doesn’t hurt someone else. So don’t beat yourself up, for the same reason you wouldn’t give Hermione hell for it. She wouldn’t give you a bollocking for it I’m sure. Now having said all that, I’m going to very quickly drink my tea that is infused heavily with some concoction of adult beverages and fatherly distress.”

Somehow, that seemed to help Harry relax.

Probably nothing to do with the splash of whisky Simon had tossed in Harry’s own tea. The poor kid needed something.

“Okay. I’m trying sir, I just. Its all so very confusing.”

“The relationship stuff or the communication?”

“Well both actually. I mean you both want me to be comfortable talking and everything, but I don’t really know what…”

He cut off at the sound of door opening upstairs, that terrified look returning with a vengeance. Quietly Simon asked before the girls were within hearing range, “Do you love her?” Harry nodded. “Then trust that it will all work out. It gives hope when there isn’t seemingly any resolution to an issue.”

Harry nodded and took a large bite of toast. Dan moved his eyes to the stairs and watched Ruth following Hermione down. His daughter looked jus as mortified as the young man waiting for them. That was good, sort of, since it meant they’d all be learning something today. Hermione sat on the opposing end of the sofa from Harry and didn’t reach for the breakfast material, which was just like her. Ruth walked over to Simon and took the cup of tea right out of his hand, sucking down a large gulp before returning it.

“Oy! That was special tea that was.”

“Exactly. I know how you operate Mr.”

She plunked down in the chair beside his and looked the teens over. It was her turn it would seem.

“So, do you two sufficiently feel disgusted with yourselves on this Sunday morning?” They both nodded. Hermione looked surprised to see Harry do so, but the young man of course missed out with that one. So it was Simon Granger to the rescue.

“Hermione nodded as well Harry.”

They both turned to him, then turned to one another in near perfect synchronicity. Considering one of them couldn’t see worth a cavity, that was impressive.

“Daaad.”

“Yes Pumpkin?”

She spluttered out a few non-syllables then sat silently glaring.

“But why are you Hermione?” Harry asked quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“God Harry, I nearly..” Her mouth snapped shut and she looked to her parents. Ah, interesting.

“Nearly had an orgasm? Is that what you were going to say dear?” At Ruth’s words, the two on the sofa gasped and tried to hide out in the open. He tried not to laugh. He really did.

“Muuuuum!”

“What, you both know they exist. I mean really, if you can honestly tell me that neither of you has had an orgasm yet then I’ll drink the rest of Simon’s spiked tea.”

Further incredulity from the kids, and Simon.

“Oy, this tea is not spiked, its enriched.”

“Yes dear because you sooo need whisky at seven in the morning.”

“I need something to help me defend my tea because apparently someone keeps drinking out of my cup. Vicious that one is.”

Even while bantering back and forth with his wife, Simon watched as Harry and Hermione flashed back and forth from mortification to amusement to confusion to embarrassment. It was rather entertaining actually.

“Oh I’ll show you vicious alright.”

“See what I have to put up with all year while you’re gone?” He asked his daughter.

“Um, weren’t we supposed to be discussing our problems or something?” Hermione asked.

Ruth jumped on it immediately. “Oh right. And what issues were those again sweetie?”

“Erm, well, I…”

“How can you have issues if you don’t even know what they are?”

“But we…”

“You know Simon, I thought we would need to have the talk later to convince them not to have sex too early, but it seems they forgot the most important part of sex other than safety.”

“They did? What could that possibly be darling?”

“I’m pretty sure, but I could be remembering wrongly, but I think, sex is supposed to feel, good.”

“Incredible! That’s an astonishing revelation dear. Are you sure?”

“Well, I think so. And it’s natural right? So, sometimes things just happen?”

“Sounds about right, if I remember how Hermione got here.”

Ruth’s next words were given the background noise of the kids gagging. “Right. How could I forget. So not only did they forget that it is supposed to feel good, but they also forgot that its okay to, oh I don’t know, be teenagers, or have dreams, or actually enjoy themselves for once.”

“Sounds about right to me.”

“Just as long as they’re safe and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Right.”

“And as long as our grandchildren are at least eighteen years younger than their parents.”

“Right.”

“Okay then. Just wanted to be clear.”

Simon drained the rest of his tea while making eye contact with his lovely wife. She glared at him.

He smirked at er and smacked his lips together. “That was some delicious tea. How was yours darling?”

Ruth rose slowly and took a step in his direction. Diving for safety, Simon leapt from his chair and ran up the stairs, giggling like a child. She gave chase and caught up to him at the top of the steps trying to listen to the room below.

Ruth grabbed his hand and started dragging him down the hall.

“But darling,” he whispered, “I want to hear what they say.”

“That’s nice, but I believe someone needs to be reminded of the pecking order in this house.”

His brain seemed to connect that she was dragging him in the direction of their room, and Simon decided it was wiser to give up his half-hearted complaints.

He smiled and hurried along. If there was anything he loved more than taking a purring Ruth to bed, it was goading her in to a reaction like this.

**GITLOH**

Harry fidgeted in the lingering silence after Hermione’s giggling parents disappeared upstairs. He was trying to not think about what was probably happening up there, and yet they had made a good point. Through their banter, they had pointed out an obvious flaw in his logic. How could he be blamed for enjoying something that felt as good as, what they had nearly done, did?

The underlying issue of whether or not Hermione had really wanted it was still present, but now he knew at least that it was okay for some things to be enjoyed. His joy hadn’t been allowed before Hogwarts; but wasn’t that wrong? How could you tell a child they didn’t deserve to enjoy things, especially if they were natural. This applied to many more things than sex of course, but it connected nicely to their issue. He still had to apologize to Hermione though; he had after all waited far too long to stop her. Hopefully she didn’t hate him.

Simon talking to him as if he wasn’t going to hate Harry for it was strange and had at first confused Harry. But the man hadn’t asked for specifics and had been honest with him. So strange.

But weren’t the Dursleys the strange ones?

“Um, so, I sent the letter to Sliptooth about your parents’ wills.”

“Uh, thank you Hermione.”

“Yeah.”

“Hermione, you know your parents are evil right?”

He heard a restrained giggle. “They can be sometimes, but they always get their point across.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Are you sure? I thought your eyes stopped working.”

Harry tried to hold it in, but the stress of the morning needed a release, and the laughter burst out of him. It wasn’t the best blind joke she had come up with, but it was an offering, and he certainly wasn’t going to decline it. Chuckling, he scooted a little in her direction and slid his hand across the cushion, hoping she would…

Her hand slid in to his, and suddenly he knew they were okay. The connection he had with her, whatever it was, told him that. Yes they had talking to do, but she wasn’t upset with him. They were uncomfortable. Her warm presence was confused rather than angry.  
“Hermione?”

“Yes Harry?”

“I’m, I’m sorry.”

“For stopping me? I mean, I didn’t exactly ask you if you wanted to do that or anything and its perfectly understandable that you might not want to do such things with me at all.”

He cut her off, “Wait, what? Hermione, of course I want to do those things. But I meant I was sorry for not stopping you sooner. I, uh, I didn’t want to stop you at all, but I knew you were kind of asleep and thought you should have more of a choice than that.”

“So, you didn’t stop me because you were grossed out?”

“God of course not Hermione. Do you have any idea how, how badly I want, uh, that?”

“I, I do too Harry. I just, wasn’t thinking. It felt so good and I didn’t think to ask you and I’m really sorry because I shouldn’t…”

“Well, normally that would be fine. I liked it a lot too. I just didn’t know you’d actually want to do that if you knew and I didn’t want to upset your parents.”

“They’ll be fine and of course I want that. I want everything, but I know we’re not ready for that. But as far as the trust goes, I know you were worried about it. Just remember that they knew things could happen. It wasn’t a test.”

“Okay, I can get that.”

Hermione moved close to him and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Can I have a hug?”

“No.” She started to draw away. “You can have many hugs.

Hermione tackled him laughing. “You’re such a git.”

“But I’m your git right?”

“Only if you tell me one thing.”

“What is this mysterious thing?”

Hermione bashfully buried her face against his chest, squeezing him tightly. “When we can do that again?”

His heart couldn’t stop growing for this creature he loved so much.

“How about we both be properly awake for the next time first eh? Granted, that would’ve been great, but everything else got in the way.”

“So we can do that again?”

“Hmmm, I suppose so.”

She poked him. Then her voice came quietly, nervous and bashful. “You felt really good.”

“So did you.”

“You mean it?”

“I don’t know if anything could feel as good as you make me feel inside, but I’d say it came rather close.”

Hermione pulled back just enough to lift her head to his, and the world dissolved in to nothing more than her lips on his.

**GITLOH**

Harry waited in the living room petting the fluffy lion known as Crookshanks while he waited for Sliptooth to arrive. Hermione was up in her room working on, something that involved brains. She’d said words that sounded mathematical, and mathematical was about the furthest word Harry cared to use in that subject. Only evil lay in that subject area. It wasn’t that he couldn’t manage it, but having been beaten during primary school for having better grades than Dudley had informed him that learning higher level things only brought pain. So he had allowed himself to suffer in mathematics and history. Science wasn’t difficult to let go on since he always found it difficult. Writing and literature though, those were different. He’d always been blocked in a way; something that now seemed obvious after having the darkness removed from his mind.

There wasn’t really a better way to describe it in few words, so he referred to it as such internally. That was why he wanted to learn braille so badly. Reading and writing just felt more, appealing now. And that, he knew, Hermione was thrilled about. As for the other things he had to learn, well Harry wasn’t exactly sure just how simple or difficult they would be. He had dealt with some rather insurmountable odds in the past and survived, so this wouldn’t be any different. Though more drawn out than the others. Not having anything to compare it to, he figured it was best to withhold judgement until he knew better.

Once concern though was Ron. After the letter he had sent Harry, it wasn’t clear how their friendship would work. Would Ron be understanding and learn alongside Harry or would he balk and retreat like he had at the beginning of the tournament the year before. One thing he didn’t like was how the letter had referred to Hermione. He had a feeling Ron fancied her, though he didn’t have the best means of displaying it. Hermione was right, Ron didn’t treat her all that well and in the past Harry had not been the best at discouraging such talk.

Would Ron abandon him again? Would he be angry with Harry for dating Hermione? Did it matter?

It was so frustrating. He wanted to thank Ron for joining him on his journey to the Ministry, but now he wanted to clobber him for what he might do to their friendship. Again he should wait to see what happened first before jumping to conclusions. Either way he didn’t have a good feeling about it.

The doorbell rang and Crookshanks leapt from the cushion beside Harry so quickly it was hard to believe he’d been there at all. He made his way to the door, hearing the others upstairs hurrying down the hall.

The door opened and before he spoke, he felt a strange sense of, burden? Like, like he was covered by something that blocked him from the world. It wasn’t strong, just a slight sensation. He didn’t know what it meant so he held out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Harry.”

“Mr. Potter. I am pleased to meet you, my name is Sliptooth.”

“I’m glad you could make it, thank you for taking the time to meet with us here.”

“Of course, it is rare, but we make the odd exception when the situation warrants it.”

“It is appreciated. Please, come in, the others are on their way down.”

He closed the door behind the Goblin as footsteps approached. “Hello sir, I’m Simon Granger.”

“Pleased to meet you, my name is Sliptooth, the Black account manager.”

“Pleasure. This is my wife Ruth and our daughter Hermione. I erm, don’t mean to be rude, but I thought you were a Goblin. Sorry if it is, I just…”

“Not at all sir, I believe you and your wife are non-magical, correct?

“We are.”

“Then you would not be aware, so you have no need to be concerned. In-home visits are rare, yet when we do make the effort it is customary for us to glamour ourselves to human disguises so as not to stand out in a non-magical environment. That part is understandable yes? The rest of it however is that the more, shall we say, affluent members of the wizarding community that we visit tend to prefer us to maintain these glamours, for their own comfort.”

Hermione cut in. “But that’s awful. They expect you to wear a mask basically because they’re racist, or discriminatory, or whatever you want to call it. That’s just, that’s just terrible.”

“I thank you for your understanding. It is one of the less desirable traits of our employers, yet we tolerate it for the sake of stability in society.”

“Well,” Harry chimed in, “I can’t see you either way. Know that you are always welcome to be yourself here. We’d never judge you for it.”

“Thank you. The glamours are, uncomfortable at best.”

And Harry felt that odd sensation of burden slip away.

“You just dropped your glamour didn’t you?” He asked hesitantly, uncertain if he should trust the feeling he had, it was new and strange. Was it intuition?

“I did.”

“Did it feel, like a burden? Or like something was covering you?”

“How did you know?”

“I, I don’t know exactly. I opened the door and I just kind of felt it. Really mildly. I thought it was intuition or something, but I felt it go away just then. I mean, I knew you were going to, but I didn’t know when. So I’m not really sure.”

Hermione was at his side instantly. “Wait, you mean you felt the magic?”

“Uh, I guess so.”

“Have you felt anything else recently? Has it happened before or just after you went blind? I wonder if your magic is compensating. I mean, Madam Pomfrey did say it was magic that shut down your vision since it wasn’t working, so maybe its trying to make up for it with other senses.”

He loved it when she went off like that. “Well, I guess you. I always know when you’re around. When I called you My Fire, I meant it. That’s what you feel like. I thought it was just how I felt about you, but its been getting more, precise with emotions and stuff.”

“We will have to study this. I wonder if it works for spells other than glamours or if it works with other people, magical or not. Oh my this is so…”

“Ahem, Pumpkin, we will look in to it of course, but let’s meet with Sliptooth first since I am sure he’s a busy, er… Should I say busy Goblin or, sorry.”

Sliptooth actually laughed. “For your candor, you can call me whatever you like. As far as expressions go, I do not mind personally as they are not designed to throw species or race in one’s face. But I have all the time needed for a client such as Mr. Potter.”

“Thank you.” Harry said, turning solemn. Together they moved to the kitchen and took seats around the table, the weight of what Sliptooth was actually there for, finally settling in.

Sirius.

“Mr. Potter, I would first offer my condolences as to the passing of your godfather. Though his family history was rarely pleasant, Lord Black was always kind to us when we had dealings.”

“Thank you Sliptooth. Sirius, Sirius was a really good man.” Harry said.

“He was. And before we discuss what he has left you, I will ask if I may. Have you decided to forgo the option of receiving magical eyes?”

Harry grimaced. “Yeah I’m good. It’s not going to be easy, but having seen how they work I don’t think I’d like to try and process that with both eyes. Nor do I fancy having my actual eyes removed. Why do you ask though?”

“Primarily because of what he left you. Affording such things would be manageable for you at the least.”

“Thanks, but I’m alright. Especially since it seems something else is going on with my magic anyway.”

“Understandable. Also I have known several who have chosen to lose all their sight rather than replace their eyes, simply due to attachment. Oddly enough most people are rather attached to the eyes they were born with.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but the inflection the Goblin placed on his words made him smile a little.

“Yeah, can’t imagine why.”

He heard parchment crinkling before Sliptooth spoke again.

“I have here the last will and testament of the late Sirius Orion Black. Are you ready for me to read it Mr. Potter? It also comes with a letter for you which I can read if you like or leave it for you later.”

Harry sighed, squeezing Hermione’s hand. “I’m ready. Could you read them both please?”

“Of course. On this day, the 21st of January, 1996, I Sirius Orion Black claim the following as my Will, to be completed upon my death. I understand that a particular verbiage is commonplace for such things, yet as I am not able to leave my home to properly complete this, I shall hope that the language is sufficient.

“Upon my passing, I pass the mantle of Lord Black to my godson Harry James Potter. He will thereby hold both the title of Lord Black as well as Lord Potter. If he is at the time of my passing below the age of majority, I recognize that he will not be able to make decisions as head of these houses without legal council. Therefore I strongly suggest that he seek council amongst the Goblin legal experts. It is also my wish that he have it explained to him exactly the limits of Lordship in this current day and age as he has been kept ignorant of such things by other parties.

“Therefore, I bequeath all assets unto him with requests for him to pursue if he so chooses. The first task I recommend is to reinstate Andromeda Tonks to the Black family. I do not currently have the capacity to do this, and so offer it as a task to be completed upon my death. Following, Belatrix Lestrange should be removed from the family and all Black assets shall be removed from her possession. These actions will require time as well as significant legal council and so I only ask the following of my godson if he so chooses. Narcissa Malfoy should be granted the choice of her new family or her old. Due to the resources being granted to our enemy, she can not be permitted to continue to drain this house for purposes that are undesirable at best. A choice should be offered to her. Following I suggest that some measure of galleons should be gifted to Remus Lupin, though he would not take it if he could. He has remained a strong friend and no thanks to his condition, has remained impoverished.

“Enclosed herein is a letter for my godson. This should be presented to him upon the completion of the reading of this Will. Had I more options available to me at present, know that I would do more. Given my current state with the ministry and the upcoming war, there is otherwise little I can manage. So be it.”

Harry sat there in silence. He wasn’t sure if he was sad or angry. If they could just have cleared his name he could have done so much more. Sirius had been trapped in his home like an animal. And these people were taking what he had left and giving it to Voldemort. Well he wasn’t sure exactly what being head of house meant, but he would do anything he could to follow Sirius’ requests. Especially the one with Tonks’ mother and Remus. There was a lot to unpack in the will which he appreciated Sirius recognizing in it. There was clearly so much to learn.

“Could you read the letter please? Before we talk about everything he said in there.”

“Of course Mr. Potter.” Sliptooth replied. This time when he read, his voice was not devoid of emotion as it had been for the will. Harry suspected that was normal considering the number of those he likely had to deliver on a regular basis. This though, brought greater emotion to the Goblin’s voice.

“Dearest Godson. Harry, there is so much to say, but I doubt that paper could hold it all. Know first and foremost that I am proud of you. You have overcome so much in your life and yet you haven’t turned in to a vengeful prat. I hate everything that has happened to you, and I love you my godson, more than anything or anyone who has ever been in my life. The thoughts of you as a baby ket me sane in prison and the knowledge of you grown gives me the strength to survive this other torment. I am trapped here for now and damn it if it isn’t testing me. When it comes down to it though, it doesn’t matter. All that matters to me now is you; your safety, your life, your happiness. Harry, I would do anything for you. I will wait until Albus sees fit to clear my name. I will sit in this hell I thought I had escaped, and suffer through the awful memories of my childhood. I will worry for you. But I will do that and more because in truth, you overshadow it all. The day you were born Harry, I knew that it didn’t matter how cruel my family was, it didn’t matter how psychotic Voldy was, it didn’t matter how high and mighty Albus was; all that mattered was how freaking wonderful the world was with you in it. With you and James and Lily and Remus, my true family.

“I won’t go in to detail about the things in the will, since the Goblins, likely Sliptooth, will do that for you. You can trust them Harry. They like to pretend to be bastards but the Goblins are the most honest of us all. Integrity is paramount in their culture; integrity and the desire to terrify unknowing humans. They probably deserve the right after all. If Sliptooth gives you any trouble just ask him how he got his name. You can’t help but respect him for that. Anyway, the point is that you can trust them. The Goblins don’t go back on their word.

“I wish I didn’t have to write this letter, and I wish you didn’t have to read it Harry. But, as it is, we can’t change the times we live in just yet. I’ve already said it, but I would and will do anything for you. If I am dead, I hope it is because I went down protecting you, or fighting the good fight against Voldy. No one life is more important than another, but I would give mine for you my godson. Not because of some undervaluing of myself. Not because I secretly want to die or something stupid like that. No. It is because you of all people who should be hateful and ruthless, love the people around you. You have surrounded yourself with those who love you and somehow you made friends with the brightest witch of your age just like your dad. Freaking Potters taking all the smart ones. Ah well, I’m sure your dad is laughing it up in the afterlife. If you end up dating her, let Hermione know that if she ever needs incentive not to dump you, there is a massive library filled with, you guessed it, books, in the states. Yes you’d have to take her across the pond to go see it, but you’d never leave, so maybe that would be safer anyway. The Blacks were blood purists, but that doesn’t mean they hated any knowledge that countered their opinions. In fact they collected everything they could and locked it up safe in their library to keep it from the eyes of anyone who wanted to actually read it. They like Hermione found books sacred so they didn’t destroy them. So there you go, an unofficial dowry. If you don’t end up with her, then you should probably give her the library in apology for being a dunce or something like that.

“I am joking of course, I would never want to influence who you date. But every man has to have a backup plan; and Hermione is just as scary as your mum, so just remember the library okay pup?

“Know that I am happy. I am happy, regardless of how I died. I am happy in the knowledge of who you are growing to be. I am happy just because you are alive. I am happy because of the good you will bring to this world. If I died protecting you, then I have fulfilled my greatest purpose. I am sorry to leave you, but know that I love you and I will always be there watching over you, either to laugh at your messes, or be there to be present in your sorrow. Your mum, dad and I love you pup. Make the best decisions you can, always tell the people you love just how much you do, try to bring a smile to life when you can, and always lift your leg when you piss. Okay well that only applies to animals, but who knows, maybe you will transform one day and need my wisdom after all. Bless you Harry. I love you my son.”

He wasn’t sure when Hermione had started holding him. He wasn’t sure when he’d started crying. He wasn’t even sure how long they all just sat there in teary silence. The entire letter had made him twisted between wanting to laugh and cry, wanting to scream and smile. Hermione was squeezing him to her and rocking him. Was it always this hard? Harry hadn’t expected this level of emotion. Oh yes he had known it would be hard, but this was an entirely new feeling. He was glad though that they had resolved their difficulty this morning, otherwise he likely wouldn’t have Hermione squeezing him to death right now.

Sirius’ acceptance of his death, knowing he might die and being alright with it, well the concept was nothing new, but it was addressed differently. Dumbledore had expressed his lack of concern for passing beyond the veil of life as the journey in to the next great adventure. Sirius had expressed his understanding of its likelihood but given it a reason, given himself a cause. Sirius knew he might die and was accepting of it, for a reason, for a cause. Death with purpose was something Harry could get behind and respect. And it helped with the anger; the fury that the world had taken Sirius from him, his godfather, someone who loved him like a son. Knowing that Sirius had at the least been comforted in fighting to protect Harry slightly dulled that anger, though it did not remove it entirely. Instead he let the sorrow rule the anger and just let himself feel that pain, safe and non-destructive.

His Fire pulsed with empathy, with shared sorrow and Harry basked in that love, needing it to center himself as the discussion moved forward.

“Thank you Sliptooth for reading that. Sirius was right, I have no idea what all this means, so I am happy to take any advice or direction you can offer.” He said over Hermione’s shoulder.

“I do offer legal services to my clients as well as account management. I will inform you that as it is not part of my job as the account manager however, it comes at a cost.”

“That’s alright. Do all managers do this as well?” Hermione prompted.

“No.” said Sliptooth. “A select few of us have taken the time to become certified by your ministry as legal officers in that we can provide the support a solicitor or attorney could. It is an extensive process, but one that I have personally found to be ultimately profitable. It has given many the false impression however that we all do this. Gringots does not officially offer the service. It is on an individual basis and considered an outside service.”

“How did you become certified?”

“I used my glamour of course until I had received my license and then removed it in front of my program lead. He was, rather disgruntled. Our glamours can not be dispelled by traditional means, so the Ministry’s security can not remove them. It has become a game of sorts. We are allowed to achieve the certification if we can get it; while the ministry attempts to discern which of the applicants is a Goblin.”

And Harry thought he might be understanding what Sirius had meant when he said the Goblins could be interesting partners.

“Still,” Harry resumed, “I would be happy to pay for your services.”

“As you wish. I must inform you however that as this is considered extraneous work to my primary function, I can not meet with you about legal matters aside from will readings, while on Gringots official business. We would need to set up another meeting to address those needs in specific.”

“That makes sense. I have the entire summer, so we can work around your availability.”

“I appreciate your flexibility. I will owl you a time when i return to my office. Until then, I brought the necessary forms you would need to fill out and sign in the advent you wished for those services. You may bring them with you when we meet again. Unfortunately we do not have a means of providing this to you in a medium other than ink and paper. Will this suffice for now?”

“Yeah, I can get help with that no problem.”

“Very good. I have here also a list of several properties that remain within the Black estate, as well as the funds that are now accessible to you. Here is your key.” Harry slid an arm out from under Hermione’s and reached out, taking the key from the Goblin’s rough hand. “When we meet about legalities, we can discuss the estate itself as well. As for this meeting I am only able to cover the will and finances.”

“I suppose we will have to wait to discuss guardianship as well then?” Simon said.

“For the most part, yes. However, Harry, you are not able to withdraw over 150 galleons at one time, and no more than 400 in one year, as you are not yet at your majority. Therefore you would need a designated guardian to monitor your accounts until then. Legally that would normally be a magical individual. However as I am specifically discussing finances, that person need not be so.”

That didn’t sound right. Harry felt Hermione stir but managed to open his mouth first. “How is that possible? Everything I’ve heard about the magical world means that you need a magical guardian to manage anything at all.”

“That,” said Sliptooth, “Is because the goblin nation has its own laws. If this were about your physical properties or any legal matter, then what you know would be accurate. However, we manage specifically the money in your account, and we goblins couldn’t care less what someone can or can’t do, as long as they can pay. Again, the legal services I provide also bypasses this.”

“Loopholes?” Harry asked.

“Exactly.”

“Then, Simon and Ruth, would you two possibly consider it?”

“We would be happy to Harry.” Said Ruth. “I’m always happy to circumvent unjust laws to get a minor the money he needs.”

Hermione sighed. “Muuum.”

The next few moments were taken up by the elder Grangers signing paperwork with Sliptooth which allowed Harry and Hermione to talk quietly amongst themselves. It felt so good to hold her and whisper. There was nothing secretive about it, but the sound of her voice when she whispered made him shiver. It was strangely both calming and erotic. So of course Harry had no idea what to do with that.

“You alright?” She asked.

He nodded a little. “In some ways, but there’s a lot here.”

“Want to talk about it now or later?”

“Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

Her lips pressed over his and the world melted. Until she pulled away of course.

“Just answer the question dolt.”

Harry couldn’t keep the stupid grin from his face. “How about later. I’d like to think about some things once Sliptooth leaves.”

“Alright, that’s fair.”

“I love you you know.”

“I love you too.”

It still made his heart dance when he heard Hermione say those words. They were somewhat common enough now, but they were so, warm, so right. It was everything he needed to hear and everything he wanted to say.

“MY Fire.” He breathed, resting his forehead against her own.

A small happy exhalation of breath from her nose and he could hear the smile in her words. “I love it when you call me that.”

Harry squeezed her close. “It fits you, in every way that matters and doesn’t.”

A small whine. “I love you.”

Hermione kissed him again, gentle and brief. Then she laid her cheek against his, leaving Harry to feel the wetness upon her skin. She was crying. He knew enough now though to know it wasn’t a sad cry, so instead of worrying, he rubbed her back and smiled. “I mean it, I really do.”

“Can I keep you forever?”

“How about we keep each other eh?”

“I love you so much it hurts. Stop making my heart melt.”

That fire, that glory he held in his arms burned hot and pure. No painful heat radiated outward, no searing tension in the air; instead that fire enveloped the same heat he felt burning inside his own heart, and Harry for the first time in his life, knew he was home. Home wherever Hermione lay; home wherever she was; home wherever they could be as one.

**GITLOH**

*Chapter Updated: 3rd December, 2018

Elise


	9. Connecting the Dots, Part 3

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 9:

Connecting the Dots,

Part 3

“Ok, I’m ready.”

“Alright. How about, dear Madame Pomfrey. There are a lot of things I should thank you for over the years, but the last days of term this year mean the most to me.”

“You’re really sweet, you know that?”

Harry smiled, leaning back against the kitchen counter as he thought of what to say next. “I’m just trying to be better. I’ve kind of been an ungrateful Berk lately.”

Hermione tsked as Harry could hear the smooth sound of her pen scrawling across the paper. “It matters that you’re trying now, and no you haven’t been a berk. Alright, I’m ready.”

He stuck his tongue out at her but wasn’t sure if Hermione was even looking in his direction. Something soft bounced off his forehead and landed on the floor.

“Oy.” He bent, feeling the ground to see if he could find it.

“Right. Little bit up, nope too far, right again, and, yup.” Harry followed her directions until he located the grape she’d tossed at him from across the kitchen. He chose not to say anything and instead wiped the thing off and blew on it twice before popping the morsel in his mouth and chewing loudly with his mouth open in her direction.

“You’re as bad as Ronald.”

“I thought you wanted me to eat it.”

She huffed. “Boys. Come on then, what’s next?”

Harry swallowed before continuing. “You provided a safe place where I could come to terms with the beginnings of what my life is going to be like and I think it has made all the difference.” He paused, waiting for Hermione to catch up. “It isn’t going to be easy of course, but having had that space to think about things and get comfortable with basic tasks helped loads. Today, I am going to meet with an instructor who can teach me to read and write in braille, as well as how to get around and cook, and all sorts of things.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, I just don’t really think it’s going to work very well on her.”

“I have to try at least don’t I?” He asked.

“You don’t, but it is kind of you to. I know she didn’t do it intentionally, but I’m still surprised with her.”

“Yeah, she’s not the kind to make mistakes like that.”

“And it’s going to cause some difficulties going forward that we can’t predict.”

“I know.”

“But we’ll get through it.”

“We will.”

There came the sound of metal on metal and one of the stove-top burners clicked on. It must be nearly time for Carrol to arrive if Hermione was putting on the water for tea.

“Alright, I’m ready again.”

“I don’t expect you not to feel bad, it was a mistake and it’s hard to get past how we feel about those. Just know that everything is going to work out and if you’d like, then Hermione and I will keep you up to date as things progress.”

He paused again while Hermione wrote. Harry pushed off the counter and stepped across the room, following the sound of her pen until he reached his girlfriend. He felt her, leaning forward toward the counter, one elbow propping up her head as she wrote with the other arm. Harry slid his hand up her back and over her mane of curls to the curve of her neck.

“What is it?” She asked, her voice quiet and soft.

“I just, this.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s a way your body curves when you write, and your head tilts just a little, right here. And your neck bends just a bit like this, so the right side of your hair falls forward.”

“What about it?”

“Its beautiful, and I miss seeing it. So I’m not going to miss it if I can help it.”

Hermione removed her elbow from the counter and reached down, taking his other hand in hers, raising it to her cheek where it had been resting. With her own, Hermione pressed his hand to her cheek so it rested there. With the tips of his fingers he could feel her eyebrow twitch just once. His other hand rubbed softly at her neck, massaging the muscles he felt there as they stood out beneath her warm flesh.

“I love you Harry.”

He smiled and bent, kissing the back of the hand that held his. “And I you.”

“Now, dictate the rest of this letter so I can kiss you properly.”

“As you say dear lady. We hope that you are having a nice start to your summer and though it may be too early to claim, I have noticed that my magic is compensating in a way. You said that it stopped making the effort to see, and I noticed that I can sense some things around me. I’ll let you know what we find out since I know Hermione wants to turn me in to her next science experiment. Thanks again for your help now and in the past few years. From, Harry and Hermione.”

As she finished writing, Hermione lifted a leg and hooked her foot around the back of his right leg, pulling forward with a light touch. He followed and pressed his body against her, the soft skin of her leg twining around his to hold him close. Knowing she was wearing a skirt, and therefore how much of those legs were currently out in the open made Harry yearn to reach down for some tactile exploration. Standing close to her was enough however, so he considered it enough that they could be close like this at all. There were always two aspects to physicality with Hermione, peace and lust. The dichotomy always frustrated him, how he could want to hold her close in a tender embrace that fueled their love and revealed the trust they held for one another, while simultaneously wanting to enjoy every inch of her flesh in a hungry fervor that he knew would lead to several interesting discoveries for the both of them. This love thing was complicated.

Hermione represented fire to him and perhaps that was why he felt fire when she was around, but which came first? As much as she was his rock, Hermione was the flame that ignited his emotion, the light that revealed the true character of friendship and love. Hermione was the embodiment of every fantasy he had wanted to fulfill in his awkward adventures in to physical pleasure with himself that he had known by instinct were wrong. She was serenity in her unending trust in him; peace in her presence of abrupt intellect; Hermione was everything.

Wanting to enfold her in trusting love and devouring pleasure at the same time showed him just how deeply he felt for her. As confusing as it was, Harry knew this was love, and that was all that mattered.

“Hey, Hermione?”

“Hmm?” She paused her writing.

“Could, could you read me the play where your parents got your name?”

“The Winter’s Tale? Of course, why?”

“I just, I like to think I understand a lot about you from my perspective. I just, want to understand what was going through their mind when they named you. The character of your name.”

He felt her blink against his fingers. “You amaze me, you know that?”

“Um, I do?”

“Yes. You do.”

She lifted her head from his hand and pressed her warm lips to the center of his palm for the barest of seconds before returning to her writing pose. “I’d be happy to read it to you.”

“Thanks. I like listening to you read.” He blushed, not out of shame, not out of discomfort, not because her bum moved in interesting ways against him as she twisted a little to look back at him. He blushed because it was a truth, a deep truth he had just shared, and he hadn’t expressed all of it. The truth was that if he could, he would listen to her voice, and nothing but her voice for every word, every song, every letter he had to hear. Her voice was beauty, comfort, familiar. The way he could hear her smile, or feel the glare coming from her eyes, hear the quirk of her lips as she shaped her tongue for an odd syllable. Her voice was prominent and beautiful.

He knew she was looking at him now, yes because she had turned physically, but there was a force, a gravity to her gaze when Hermione was focusing on something intently.

“You know, I’m glad it took us this long to figure us out.”

“Hmm?”

Harry was confused at the seeming non sequitur. Hermione rubbed her right cheek against the hand she held in hers, a motion so feline that he wondered if Crookshanks hadn’t transferred some of his personality to the young woman.

“Because, I very much enjoy seeing this side of you. And,” here she paused as if looking for the right words. “And, because I can trust your words and believe you, even when some part of me thinks it couldn’t be true. I believe you because we’ve built that trust by now.”

“We have. And I do mean it Hermione.”

“I know.”

They stood in silence, no discomfort no awkward presence, just silence and close proximity. In that gap in sound, in that moment of reprieve from the world, they shared an understanding, a feeling, something profound and wordless.

They could soothe their doubts in the other’s love. He knew they felt the same as surely as he knew that something profound had just changed inside him.

Voldemort was going to get his arse handed to him. Because if there was anything that made Harry believe he could find a way to overcome all the crap about being blinded, it was the woman staring in to his sightless eyes right now.

“I’m not really sure how the hell I got so lucky, but I’m pretty damn sure you’re my soulmate Hermione. I don…”

Her whole body writhed, untwisting from her position and flipping to face him. She cut off his words with her lips pressed hard to his, hands sliding up his face to twine in his hair. There was a need in that kiss, a force, a determination that he hadn’t felt before. Hermione pushed him back until he stopped against the table where she held him. Harry wasn’t complaining.

A hot tear dripped on to his cheek and her kiss grew harder, a deep moan breaking inside her as Hermione clung to him like she never had before.

Of course the tea picked that time to decide it was ready to start whistling.

Loudly.

Harry started to move as if to get it but Hermione shook her head against the kiss, not letting him go.

So he ignored the intrusion of painful noise upon his ears and made the smart decision of kissing his girlfriend as if the world was about to end.

There was a craving passion in Hermione and it activated both parts of his love for her with primal desire. He wanted to turn about and bend her back against the table, and he wanted to scream how much he loved her until she couldn’t stand listening to him anymore.

With initial caution Hermione ran her teeth across his lower lip unknowingly making it entirely impossible for Harry to give a damn about anything else around them. Apparently she felt the same because a second later she repeated the gesture with much less concern for the sharpness of her teeth, something Harry was very much in agreement over.

New territory indeed.

Harry was really starting to believe the elder Grangers’ advice about it being okay for things to feel good. Yup, the arguments against it were being slaughtered by the thousands inside his head. It was a massacre.

Hermione broke the kiss with a gasp, running her nails down the back of his neck. “If we weren’t about to have company, I swear.”

He figured the stupid grin on his face spoke just about every word he could have come up with.

She kissed him again, a quick peck on the lips. “Yes, later. Science.” Then she stepped away to remove the screaming pot from the burner, leaving Harry to attempt the clobbering of the sexually frustrated troll that represented his brain at the moment. If he just stepped forward he could grab her from behind and…

A car pulled up in front of the house.

Crap.

The beating of the troll suddenly became much more desperate. The troll was rather unconcerned about the tiny human trying to beat it with a tiny truncheon.

He had to think of something fast or it was about to be very obvious to their guest just what kind of emotions were running through him at the moment.

Troll.

Big things.

Giants.

Hagrid’s brother.

The Forbidden Forest.

Umbridge being carried away by centaurs.

Umbridge.

Suddenly the troll developed a brain tumor and decided to give up fighting the good fight.

Suddenly Harry felt the need to vomit.

**GITLOH**

Hermione’s whole body trembled with anticipation that would ultimately lead nowhere as she lifted the kettle from the stove. It was the same feeling that had ripped through her the previous morning when she awoke, but this time it was not dulled by sleep. Every inch of her was burning with an internal fire that lusted to burn free and consume everything around her. Eager, anticipating.

And thanks to him, now she needed to change her underwear.

How did that boy make her so happy and so, naughty, at the same time. It wasn’t fair. No one took away Hermione Granger’s control like that, no one.

Except her boyfriend apparently.

Soulmate, that was what he had called her.

Soulmate.

She supposed he was right. He was her friend, her companion, the one person she trusted in this world above all others. The one person who made her laugh and cry in the same moment, the same person who caused her iron control to shatter like so many panes of glass. The one person who understood her to the core of her being.

He was her soulmate, they were soulmates.

He was right, how had they gotten so lucky.

Behind her, Harry left the kitchen to go get the door for Carrol. Hermione would have to continue her experiment with him later, hypotheses had to be tested and proven. She was an intellectual after all.

She poured the tea and brought it over to the table for the three of them then went to join him at the door. Carrol was just stepping over the threshold exchanging greetings with Harry. Hermione came forward and offered to take some of the things she was carrying and received a metal typewriter that was much heavier than it looked. The thing had only nine keys though and Hermione had to restrain her thoughts from getting distracted.

“I’ve just poured some tea if you’d like.”

“That would be lovely, thank you Hermione. Have you two had a good day so far?” Carrol asked.

Harry closed the door behind his new teacher and they three relocated to the kitchen.

“We have,” Hermione said trying hard not to look at Carrol or Harry as she did so. “We’ve just been, doing school work and brainstorming ways to manage school in the fall.”

“Ah.”

Hermione set the device down, a small jingle coming from somewhere in the depths of the contraption responding to the contact.

“I’m glad you both care about your schoolwork so much. Are you planning to return to the same school for the fall term?” Said Carrol.

“Yes.” Said Harry. “Its worth any trouble it might be at the beginning.”

“Ah optimism, I’m always glad to hear it. We can discuss schooling when Ruth or Simon are available as they may be crucial in establishing a positive dialogue with your school. There is a lot to do of course, but right now we should just focus on getting you as far as we can.”

“Thanks, yeah I’d rather not worry about school right now too.”

They settled at the table but Hermione remained standing. “I’ll be right back I’ve got to use the loo.”

“Perfect,” Carrol said, “I wanted to talk to Harry briefly anyway.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong yet.” Harry wined.

“Its preparatory dear.” Hermione deadpanned before leaving the room hearing the chuckles she left behind. She made a quick stop in her room to grab an alternative undergarment before moving to the loo. Seeing Harry so newly expressing such powerful emotions was euphoric to Hermione. It wasn’t because he was growing up or anything like that. It was because they had to do with her. For years she had just been Hermione, the third part of the golden trio. The person that Ron forgot was a girl. The person who was cast in the support role in their friendship for some reason.

But with those emotions now directed at her, she couldn’t deny it to herself anymore. Hermione, yes Hermione, was a young woman in love. And for once, she felt pretty. It wasn’t a constant feeling, it too fluctuated as did any other feeling, but for once she felt it.

The way Harry touched her, the way he looked at her without seeing, the way he made her feel. It was all new and so strange. Those emotions were delicious in their intensity and all Hermione wanted to do was bask in their light, to glory in them, to revel in the knowledge that someone could love her that much and make her feel the same.

Hermione returned to the kitchen, making sure to go slowly enough so they could finish their conversation. At the bottom of the stairs she sent Carrol a questioning glance which was returned by a nod. Hermione hadn’t made a sound, the stairs were solid underneath the carpet, so she was impressed when Harry turned in her direction.

“Heya Hermione, how would you like to gain more knowledge and learn to read books in an entirely different way?”

His ability to sense her was apparently developing quickly. Carrol even prompted before Hermione could answer, “How did you hear her? she didn’t even make a peep.”

“Oh, it was her hand on the banister. It wasn’t loud, but I heard something.”

Hermione knew he was lying, but that was really their only option at the present without telling Carrol about magic. If they weren’t careful, someone was going to slip up eventually. As it were, Carrol didn’t seem to believe him either, but she let it go, looking back over to Hermione.

“You know me Harry, I can’t resist learning new things, especially when they have to do with books and cleverness.”

A wide grin spread across his face as those words clicked in his mind. She hadn’t said them since the very end of their first year, but he clearly recalled as well as she did.

“There are more important things though dear.”

“Oh, and what would those be then?” She asked, sliding in to a chair beside him. Carrol’s eyes flicked between the two of them at their banter.

“Hmmm, how about friendship?”

“Or bravery.”

“Or, love, I suppose.”

“Or vengeance, that’s always fun too you know.”

“Too true. I suppose you might be right. Regardless, I think we should let Ms. Turner get on with her lesson before we drive her mad.”

“This is going to be a very interesting assignment working with you two now isn’t it?” Carrol sighed with a smile.

“It does bring up the question though,” Hermione added, “I don’t want to get in the way of your lessons, or your learning Harry. Would it be better for me to stay back?”

“As far as braille is concerned,” said Carrol, “I can teach the both of you if you would like. Everything else though will be individual with Harry. That is also up to you Harry if you are comfortable with company for your braille lessons.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, for braille that’s alright.”

“Alright then.” Carrol said. She slid a piece of paper to each of them and rubbed her hands together. “Braille. It is a code, a language. But it is individual, more like pictures than letters, so holding on to thoughts of what print looks like is only going to hurt your learning. So while you ponder that, consider this. Braille was designed because print letters were too rigid, they weren’t enough. They weren’t good enough in a way.

“When the first efforts to help blind people read became more common, they were limited. Print letters were raised upon paper, large and difficult to make. At best you could only fit a few words on a page. It evolved though and ultimately print was scrapped for something new and altogether different.”

Hermione laid her hands upon the paper before her just as Harry was doing, and closed her eyes, listening and feeling.

“Braille, as we know it today is still bulky; depending on the size of a book, it can be large enough to fill an entire bookcase. But that size is shrunken by what we call contractions; symbols that mean groups of letters and even entire words. Without them we have to write out every word as normal, taking up even more space. Those letters I will teach you first because they are the baseline for everything else you will learn. After, we will learn what those symbols are, how they work within rules that were established to control the shared use of the language. On the paper before you is the alphabet, 26 different symbols that fall in to a pattern. Those are 26 of the 63 possible dot configurations that can exist within a single braille cell.”

Hermione’s brain was already whirling with the possibilities, eager to learn more, curious what she could do with this new code.

“Each braille cell is the space a single letter or symbol can fill. Each cell allows for six dots, two across and three down. The 63 refers to all possible placements within that rectangle from one dot to six. Every one of them gets used, multiple times for most, to mean loads of different things. But I don’t want or expect you to memorize the numbers and math of it. All I want you to do to start is feel what you have there.”

So Hermione did just that. As she felt about with her hands, Carrol gently corrected how she and Harry held their hands, a slight arch downwards so that the lower tips of their fingers at the curve of the pad up to the nail was all that touched the tiny dots she felt. She felt, and she asked, and she listened while Harry asked. Their finger sensitivity was not trained for this so neither of then was overly proficient at differentiating between the similar letters with multiple dots; but they tried together and they learned. She and Harry shared ideas and strategies to remember the letters and shapes, considering those that Carrol offered as well. She told them that she viewed each symbol as a shape rather than just a combination of dots; that it was like constellations in that it was as much a picture made by dots as it was a shape determined by the absence of dots.

Together they talked and together they learned. Together they inspected the Perkins Brailler and learned to put the paper in and take it out again. They repeated this over and over again so they could do it smoothly and without hesitation. Carrol showed them how the six keys on the typewriter mirrored the six dots of the braille cell though in horizontal formation rather than vertical. They practiced writing a couple of letters just to get the idea before Carrol left them with the assignment of simply practicing.

And as if no time had passed at all, the lesson was over. Carrol said it was time to practice Orientation and Mobility, so Hermione left them to it and headed up to her room to read. It was hard, letting Harry alone like that. As if he needed anyone to watch over his lessons. But he was learning life altering skills and she wanted to be there with him. This was to be regular though, so Hermione was going to have to adapt and get used to Harry going off on his own like he used to. This was after all the ultimate goal of this training.

**GITLOH**

Harry stood in the middle of nowhere. Around him was void and the ground beneath was uniform and unhelpful. He extended his cane to the left where it had been trailing along the side of the driveway for practice. Apparently he’d stepped too far away and now he couldn’t reach the grass.

So he stepped left and stuck his cane out again. Still nothing.

How was that possible? He must have turned as well which meant he had to turn a little left then try again?

Harry became more and more worried, more and more frustrated, more and more lost.

He was lost in a driveway. He was alone and terrified, the fear surging up through his veins like a swell of water flooding across his body. When his limbs froze in place and his tears began to fall, Harry sank in to the loss and confusion.

Carrol had said this would be hard. She had said that the first time he got lost it was important for him to know that she was there and wouldn’t let him get hurt, but that he had to find his way out of it. She had said he would hate her at times.

She had said that he could do it.

Then why did it hurt so much.

He felt like a baby standing in the middle of the freaking driveway crying. He felt like a loser. He felt like Voldemort was going to kick his arse.

No.

No, that wasn’t right. Hadn’t he just thought this very afternoon that he and Hermione were going to do the same to Voldemort? So why should he let this break him?

No this didn’t make him feel like he was doomed; it made him feel challenged. He’d always been challenged, the stone, the chamber, the dementors, the tournament, the ministry. He could beat the damned blindness.

Challenge accepted.

It still hurt though.

He would do it for Hermione though. Could he still feel her from here, could he orient from the sensation of her?

For the first time, his magic responded directly. It was not a focused burst like when casting a spell, but a seeking, a pulse, reaching for something familiar.

No, I have to do this on my own. Just this first time at least.

Harry suppressed the urge to seek out comfort and tried to calm his thoughts. He was in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t sure how straight of a line he could walk in without seeing, so he turned in the vague direction of where he thought the house was, and shuffled forward. With wide sweeps of his cane, Harry made his way in as straight a line as possible, feeling nothing to either side, until…

Leaves.

What the hell?

Oh, bushes. There were bushes on the side of the driveway across from the stairs, right, Hermione had mentioned something about that their first day here.

Determined, Harry put the bush to his left and followed the line of pavement until he encountered something large and solid with his cane. The garage. Eager and a little proud of himself, Harry continued along the building until he came to the path that led to the front door and the steps. When he found it, he paused, unsure what Carrol would want him to do.

“And on your first day, you problem solved, you challenged yourself, and you succeeded. I will never deny you if you sincerely ask for help, but you did it for yourself. Good work Harry. We’ll work more on actual technique next time, and I won’t have you in such a broad area for a while. You did well. How are you feeling, are you alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright. It’s, it’s a lot. I’m kind of all over the place right now.”

“Good. Do you hate me yet?”

He laughed. “Not yet, no. I get what you did. I lost myself to start with anyway, but you let me figure it out for myself. It sucks in the moment and I was really freaking out, but if I hadn’t solved it myself i’d be rather, er, down about the whole thing.”

“Most wouldn’t be so kind about the technique, but I’m glad you can recognize it. It is never fun to leave someone like that, but you were safe and you need to solve your own problems when I’m not around. Good work.”

They went back inside, Harry still in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions but trying hard to remember the lesson before the driveway. How to hold his cane, what it meant to people, how to treat it socially, what the entire point of it was. How to use it.

As a result of that turmoil, the afternoon passed in a relative blur and his sleep was disturbed by nightmares and tears. Until Hermione saved him.

**GITLOH**

He wasn’t sure exactly what sound had pierced through the thoughts of sleep, but Simon paused in his undressing to listen. Ruth looked over from where she sat on the bed brushing her hair.

“What is it dear?”

“Not sure. I’ll be right back.” He said.

Tugging his trousers back on and forgoing the shirt, Simon quietly opened the bedroom door and slipped out. There was a light coming from Harry’s room through the open door across from Hermione’s. Clearly someone was paying a visit. He padded down the hall and peered around the frame, locking eyes with his daughter. Hermione sat propped back against the pillows, cradling a sobbing Harry in her arms. Simon did his best to ignore the fact that Harry’s head was currently between his daughter’s breasts. She did at least have a nightgown on so it wasn’t too bad right? She looked worried, a few tears creeping out of her own eyes. Neither of them moved.

“I just don’t want to fail them.” Came the muffled words from his daughter’s well-placed boyfriend. Her look of confusion did not fade in the slightest.

“Fail who sweetie? You aren’t failing anyone.”

“Parents.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed a few times.

“Its not like I even have family right now. The Dursleys would love to make it all worse.”

“But how could you possibly be failing anyone love?” One hand ran through his hair, the other rubbing his back in small circles.

“Its so big and I can’t just make it smaller by trying hard.”

Hermione mouthed the words “I have no idea.” To Simon who wasn’t exactly sure what he would have said anyway.

“What’s big? Just breathe, that’s right.”

“The world.”

“Of course the world’s big love, but you don’t have to make it smaller. None of us could do that.”

Harry’s body trembled as he fought for breath. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Alright, that’s alright, just breathe love, I’m here.”

Simon felt like an intruder, watching a moment of delicate uncertainty that wasn’t his to partake in. Harry had been uncomfortable when he returned from outside with Carrol Turner. She had quietly indicated to Ruth and himself that Harry would likely be upset by the lesson. Apparently he had frozen out in the driveway, something Carrol had assured them was perfectly normal. What Simon was seeing now was very likely the end result of holding those feelings away for the afternoon. He turned to leave but a pleading look from his daughter waylaid him in the doorway. Her lips silently formed the word “wait” and Simon knew he couldn’t leave her without the support of his presence.

For a while they all remained as they were, in their separate worlds of thought, until Harry stilled his breathing and turned his head to the side. “The world I can sense is so small compared to what is out there. I know that in the grand scheme of things it always was, but its just grown that much smaller.”

Hermione sat there holding him and caressing his hair. Her eyes were wet, whether for Harry’s pain or his future Simon did not know. But he did know something in that quiet moment. There was something he could do for Harry, if he would have it.

“I don’t want to make what my parents did for me mean nothing by me giving up. But I just don’t know what to do. I don’t see how this can work. Even if my magic is compensating, it can’t possibly change this enough to help me compete with Voldemort. Even before I never stood a chance, especially not after what i saw him and Dumbledore do in that duel. There’s no way I can stand up to him like this.”

“We.”

Harry clearly felt he was alone, and Simon never wanted his precious daughter to have to get anywhere near that war; but at her single word, instead of getting upset and telling his girlfriend exactly the same thing as Simon was thinking, Harry smiled and reached up to take one of her hands in his.

“Right, sorry.”

Simon blinked and took an involuntary step back. What was their relationship if Harry could accept this? What was it if Harry could allow Hermione, precious darling Hermione in to war beside him?

It was solid, that’s what it was. And as the final third, the undeserving member of the trio, as the last person to feel emotion in that small gathering, Simon felt tears prick at his eyes. He didn’t hear the rest of the discussion, the words were garbled in his ears as he hurried back to his room, trying to hold himself together. He didn’t care what else they said, he didn’t really think about leaving, regardless of Hermione’s unspoken plea. Whatever else they might say together, whatever else they might decide or whisper about, Simon knew there was nothing more he could add. They had each other. That was what mattered here.

He hadn’t really tried to hold on to his daughter, seeing how much she loved Harry. It was a foregone conclusion. But this was, different. This was finality, this was profound in a new way that he hadn’t expected to find in two people of their age. He wasn’t ready for the raw potency that such simple words could hold in those moments. Power that he had foolishly believed only belonged to the moments between him and his wife. Seeing such purity in the shared breaths of others, his daughter and her boyfriend none the less; such feelings, such thoughts were world altering.

He closed the bedroom door behind himself and felt Ruth slide her arms around his bare torso. She kissed his wet cheek and met his eyes. He stared in to her gaze through the slight blur of salty water and thought that for just a moment he might finally understand how those two in the other room felt about one another.

“You alright darling?”

“That boy.” he choked. “That boy deserves our little girl.” The famous last words of a father. Words Simon thought were kept sacred by all fathers, kept until the day they died because no one, no man or woman, no hero or warrior or god, could ever truly be good enough for their precious baby girl.

“Then let’s show him that, shall we?”

Blessedly, Ruth flicked off the light so he didn’t have to look at her through his tears. Blessedly she was gentle and slow, like the growth of their love had been, like the words of a lover, like the time between moments as precious as this. And when they were spent and out of breath, Simon lay with his head upon her chest, and thanked God for everything this life had given them. Happiness, Hermione, love, and understanding.

**GITLOH**

Author’s Note:

There is exhilaration in emotion; when we breathe it, when we share it. Like a firefly it eludes us, granting only a flicker, a glimmer, of what we can hold and feel. I will never claim to inherently understand what so many different people feel, but i like to believe that it all comes from the same place, the same source, the same power. When parallels are drawn either by design or by chance, when paths shoot off in like formation, that is when we recognize what we can hold, when we see what others embrace. Emotion, feeling, it is exhilaration, it is understanding, it is liberation; and every one of us can wield it.

It is for that reason that I cherish the art of teaching. To be in a position to connect with a student and share knowledge on a level they comprehend is the beauty of human interaction. An interaction that is in truth much deeper than our own species, a learning fueled by the need to survive, spread through every species, every people. As such, i deeply value the time I spend instructing in the use of braille. It is different, unique, complex and simple. It requires nothing and everything. Could I dedicate my life to simply teaching others to read and write through the configuration of six dots, then I would be fulfilled as equally as i will when i ultimately publish my original works. Fulfillment, emotion, liberation, all connected, all parallels. All within reach of every one of us.

*Chapter Updated: 3rd December, 2018

Elise


	10. Sparks in Anger Amidst Flares of Love

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 10:

Sparks in Anger

Amidst Flares of Love

Harry’s mind leapt from insubstantial wanderings to the solidity of conscious thought with all the grace of a flawless broom landing. There was the instant of finality, of landing and the presentation of overwhelming gravity; but it was gentle, because she was there. For the first time in a long time, Harry woke after the dawn, attributed to his lack of proper sleep throughout the night. Knowing that Hermione and her parents had been in private conference before bed had caused him worry. He knew it was needless, but part of his mind couldn’t let go of the thought that perhaps they were finally sick of him.

The landing in to wakefulness blasted away any uncertainties however in a presence of duality that showered his heart with fragments of spontaneous emotion with every breath he took deeper in to consciousness. Harry lay on his left side, the sun falling through the window and bathing him with soft warmth that would once have stabbed through his eyes. Now however he could stare at the sun all day, and it could not blind him. How interesting that simple freedom had become. As he lay there, she held his hand in her’s; he knew it was her by the skin, by her grip, by her breathing, by her presence, by her fire.

Hermione existed beside him amidst sunlight and Harry knew which was the greater. It was not the orb on high, it was not the burning heat of ageless dominance over the Earth. Nay, it was the pulsing flame of love that hung alongside him in that morning light, shining brighter with emotion, with love, with warmth, than any feelings or heat the sun could hope to evoke within him.

“I love you too.” he said, reaching out his free hand to seek out her cheek. The sun bathed her as well, flaming through the curls he loved so well and caressing the flesh of her delicate face. And Harry knew that he was looking at a picture.

It was a moment that had he possessed vision would have been picturesque, perfect, imprinted upon his mind with love and beauty. Hermione was beautiful. Yes he had seen her plenty of times and no she was not goddess material. No one would mistake Hermione for Aphrodite, but to him she was more. Her eyes were deep and caring, her smile soft and young. Her beauty was, solemn in its majestic simplicity, likely the reason why he and Ron hadn’t been drooling over her looks for the last five years.

Well he was drooling now, metaphorically speaking of course. Her looks, combined with the insurmountable beauty of Hermione’s personality combined to make something much more powerful than any Veela.

When Hermione spoke, her lips turned up and her quiet words were filled with pleased amusement. “You presume so much.”

Harry grinned, it was impossible not to. “I don’t presume, I can feel it.”

The pulse, the unspoken and unheard rhythm of the dancing flames where knelt Hermione, told everything. It was instinct. He couldn’t see them or really even physically feel them. The presence was, knowledge, understanding, feeling. He just interpreted what he felt and knew what it was. Hermione’s fire burned with gentle love and light, more potent and soft than any photons the stupid sun could create.

The stupid sun could sod off for all he cared.

“Well at least you are right.” Hermione leaned forward and kissed him.

Yeah the sun was really stupid, and it could really sod off. The sun didn’t kiss like that.

She pulled back and gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek before standing. “Come on then sleepy-head. You’ll sacrifice your breakfast to daddy if you’re not down there quick enough.”

“Evil man.”

Whatever the Grangers had spoken of the night before, they had clearly not decided to give him the boot out the door. Otherwise Simon would have left Harry his breakfast no question. He scrambled out of bed and yanked the sheets up to the pillow before getting himself ready for the day. He joined the others downstairs and tolerated the light-hearted jabs at his inability to wake up at a normal hour. Today was to be a busy one, a day of uncertainty, amidst Dumbledore and their friends. Two worlds he hadn’t directly breached since leaving school.

Did he really want to?

Not really when it came down to it. Harry would be perfectly content to remain with Hermione and her parents for as long as he could. Dealing with the outside world was hardly of interest at the present. And it was too big.

Fortunately they wouldn’t have to leave until closer to midday. That meant braille practice. After breakfast Harry helped clean up and walked over to the side table where he and Hermione had their materials set up. Her hand on his arm stopped him before he could reach it however. Together they instinctively slipped in to a loose embrace, bodies touching, faces close, but little actual pressure.

“Hey you.”

“Hey. Um, I wrote you something.”

To further emphasize her uncertainty, Hermione pawed a gentle hand down his chest, face downturned.

“Alright. What’s up?”

“Well, I just, it’s longer than our usual.”

“Uhuh.”

“And i love you.”

“Oh good, i was wondering.”

A gentle headbutt. “I’m serious.”

“Alright.”

“Would you read it?”

“I always like to read what you write.”

“I know, it’s just,” another pause. Hermione was never this uncomfortable. “different.”

Harry nuzzled her head up and kissed her. “Of course I’ll read it silly Mione.”

“Poop.”

“We all do.”

Hermione sighed then slid out from his arms. When he sat to read, she didn’t join him as usual. Instead Hermione walked off, leaving him at the table. He felt about for the paper and found two sheets before him, it must have taken her ages to write.

**GITLOH**

If ever I love you,

if ever I cry,

just know that I’m really afraid to fly.

Something about you,

it makes me wonder,

why you always forgive my blunders.

I try so hard,

and somehow it doesn’t matter,

because you say you love me no matter.

Why is that, I do not know,

its like you understand me.

Like you understand me more than me.

I’m afraid because I love you so,

so afraid and so ready to go,

beside you alongside you,

wherever you need.

I suck at rhyming,

but maybe it doesn’t matter,

because you said you love me no matter.

You make me happy, so happy, so happy.

Whatever you’ve done to me,

don’t stop,

don’t stop,

please, don’t stop.

**GITLOH**

Hermione was not the poem writing type. She wasn’t really even one to spell out her emotions in general. At least, she hadn’t been. The last month had changed her significantly. No, Hermione hadn’t changed, she’d flowered, she’d grown to accept the parts of herself that Harry had never seen before except in the smallest of moments.

“…There are more important things,…”

In those little moments he saw the deeper Hermione, the Hermione that wasn’t afraid to love him in return. It was the Hermione that radiated fire in his soul.

“…friendship,…”

Instead Hermione had protected herself over the years, something she had readily admitted to him on several occasions. When dealing with two teenage boys who were clueless about girls or even how to be proper friends, it was the only way to get through without further emotional damage. She’d become a part of the whole, rather than just being Hermione.

“…and bravery, and…”

And now Hermione was being brave, letting those fears go. As easily as the tears were falling from Harry’s eyes, she had shown him her frailty; a fragility that Hermione rarely presented. And she was showing it to him, exposing it.

Harry gathered himself, bringing his breathing under control even if he couldn’t control the tears for the moment. He slid from the chair and moved across the room to where that glorious fire was emanating from with tremulous cadence. With every understanding of her it grew stronger, more defined, more tangible. He really had no idea what to say. After all it was usually the boy that had to write the girl sappy love poems; and now with this reversal he had no clue what to say or do. He was now the one crying as he took her in to his arms without words. And maybe he didn’t need words this time. But some came out anyway.

“Can I keep it? Or are you going to make me burn it?”

Hermione sagged against him. “You want to keep it?”

“Of course I do. As badly as I want to keep you.”

“But its awful, i’m pants at poetry.”

“So?”

“Hey.”

“So what if your skill at poetry isn’t at its best, mine isn’t either. I still want to keep it, i love it.”

Hermione huffed out a light breath. “At least you’re honest, dolt. Fine, you can keep it.”

“Thank you love.”

“Uhuh.”

He nudged her head with his nose. “Hey, you’re supposed to be the one with words not grunts.”

The demon pressed a feather-light kiss beneath his chin, then pulled him back over to the braille table.

“That’s nice. I brailled some words out for you like normal though. Practice time for you Mr. You can read my words instead.”

“Oh goody.”

They moved her poem to the side and slid the braille writer forward. Harry sat in his chair and reached up to read.

Heatless fire, bottled emotion, sacred delicacy, pulsed upon Harry’s shoulders and leaned against his back in joyous presence as he sat reading the words she had written. It was a regularity now, sharing words on paper in a language no one else near them could read. In this Harry loved her quiet presence, her solid support, her equal participation. This was the fingertips of his new life, and Hermione was right there along with him. They had discussed over the last weeks her participation in his other lessons and learning, coming to the understanding that those things he needed for himself. It was one thing for others to understand what he was doing and that he had the capabilities therein, but it was another to share every skill, every action, every ability with another. As much as they loved each other, neither of them wanted to share precisely everything.

So in this they related, in this they took pleasure in the mutual understanding, the mutual enjoyment of learning and growth. It had become a game this practicing. They would take turns writing sentences to the other and reading the one just written. That was their new mode of conversing during practice. No talking, only reading and writing. Over his shoulder Hermione watched him read, and if he breathed an error, she would help him if he needed it, or watch him struggle until it clicked.

Their homework had become an opportunity to share.

That steady pulse against his back told Harry that she enjoyed the activity as much as he. They were a team, and growing stronger every day.

When he was finished with the sentences Hermione had written, Harry read them aloud to verify his reading. “I’ll give you a back rub if you let me tell Ron we’re together. I want to see the look on his face.”

“Yup.”

“Typical.”

“Excuse me? Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Pretty sure you were supposed to write other things down on the paper Mr.”

“Pretty sure you’re breaking the rule just now yourself Madame Prefect.”

Her hands removed themselves from his shoulders and he knew they had transposed themselves on to Hermione’s hips by instinct. “Well someone had to start it Potter.”

“Yes My Fire, as you say.”

“Don’t you try and pacify me Mr. with your cutesy names. Get writing so I can criticize your braille skills for no reason.”

Harry grinned and started typing a response. They were still using grade 1 braille for now since Carrol advised that they be comfortable and confident with it before adding braille contractions. She’d said that those would likely not cause himself and Hermione any difficulty, but it was better to be sure. Fluency was just as important as extent of vocabulary. Harry finished typing and rolled the paper out two lines so Hermione could read what he’d written.

They switched spots and Harry took to running his fingers through Hermione’s ringlets. As if reveling in his acceptance and curiosity, the awareness of Hermione’s presence, her fire, had deepened. Hermione thought it might be the difference between casting a spell and truly understanding that you had succeeded in sussing out the workings of the magic. She hypothesized that if he provided acknowledgement of his new sense as well as effort, then the awareness may further develop. He had essentially been doing that already; reaching out to her fire, sensing the warmth, the rhythm, the love.

It had become his everything. Not that she knew that however. So Harry let her theorize and smiled at how adorable Hermione could be when she was devoted to a new scientific quest. He had his own theory of course.

Emotion and magic.

His magic was clearly compensating somehow, and he thought that emotion might be the driving factor. It was his love for her that provided the base, the beginning, for something that affected him so deeply that only love could compare. It was potent and welcome.

That did not of course explain his ability to sense the veil that Sliptooth had utilized in his visits before entering the house, so he supposed they might both be correct to a point. It didn’t matter though. As long as he had her, as long as he could sense her, as long as he could love her, he would be sated, happy.

“I would rather tell him myself so you can accurately tell me how he reacts. I am sure his face will implode and I want every detail.”

“Incorrect.”

“What?” Harry grinned at the tone in her voice. No, Hermione did not like making mistakes.

“Here, let me look it over to make sure I didn’t mess it up first though.” Harry leaned against her so his arm could reach, and he searched out the word in question. “Yup, it wasn’t implode. It was explode.”

She slid her hand over to his and Harry took his back to allow her to reread the error.

“I reversed the E to an I again. Uugh that’s so annoying, why do i always do that?”

“Because there have to be some imperfections dear.”

She blew a raspberry.

“I must have missed the dot 6 and just filled it in in my head for the M instead of X. What an idiot.”

“Hey, be nice to my girlfriend. If she were perfect then I’d have to be also and I don’t like trying to reach that standard, too many expectations.”

“I know, I know, self talk needs to be better.”

“Yup.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Good, so am I.”

“Love you.”

“And you.”

Harry kissed the top of her head and went back to stroking her hair. The no talking rule didn’t always succeed, it seemed to be the one rule Hermione forgot to follow. And there was absolutely a difference between forgetting to follow it and willfully ignoring it. She was cute when she forgot a rule and terrifyingly attractive when denying the rule’s dominance over her. That was his Hermione, fiery and potently fragile all at the same time.

It had been hard for them to decide how to respond to Ron’s letter. Harry had wanted to give him a good bollocking for how he’d been treating Hermione, but Hermione in contrast to her earlier expression of pain at Ron’s words, had advocated for leaving the majority of his feelings out of the communication on paper. Since she was the one actually writing it, Harry thought it best to take her advice. She was usually right anyway. So they’d kept it simple and he had only noted that Ron should be nice to Hermione, since she was after all the one reading his letters to him at present. Either way, Ron wasn’t likely to react well to the news of them being in a relationship. Hence their current written communication.

Hermione finished typing and rose, switching spots with him again. Harry slid his fingers across the paper, trying not to press down too hard in an attempt to sense the dots more easily. More pressure was actually detrimental to one’s attempt to read. Building finger sensitivity was one area Carrol had strongly focused on, saying that it took the longest to build but would remain rather well as long as they practiced. Pressing too hard on the dots only made them harder to read later as it crushed them back in to the paper. As it turned out, Harry was better with the dot formations and Hermione had the stronger finger sensitivity. It really only meant that he was more accurate and she faster, but they were evening out as time went on. He liked learning with Hermione.

Even when doing their homework, he enjoyed learning now, with her. She would read their texts and scribe for him for the essays. They hadn’t gotten far just yet, but it was more enjoyable now than it had ever been, something Harry was extremely grateful for. Something about doing it with her just made the process, acceptable. It didn’t make knowledge a burden, it made it a process, something he could do rather than something he had to carry.

“Can I at least be the one to tell the headmaster that you are developing a magical sense of some sort?”

“Yup, got it.”

Harry wrote his response then switched places with her.

“Only if you also accept a lemon drop.”

“Why, do you want me to contract some sort of disease?”

“No, you’ll throw him off.”

“Yeah and if what you said is correct then that same dish has been sitting on his desk for the last decade or more.”

“But it would be worth it don’t you think?”

“I don’t really like lemon all that much.”

“Fine fine, you can tell him. So demanding.”

“Oh? I’ll show you demanding.”

“Please.”

“You’re weird.”

“You started it.”

Once they got in to a rhythm it was easier to maintain the no talking rule. Their banter and conversation went back and forth in odd parody as they each had to read the words of the other aloud. Harry wasn’t exactly thrilled about the day’s plans considering it involved meeting with Dumbledore then the Weasleys. At least Simon and Ruth would be there with them the entire time and Sliptooth would be joining them for the meeting with the headmaster. At least it would be over soon, but the combination was a little daunting. One positive though was that Sliptooth was currently pressing to get an allowance for Carrol to be told about magic due to Harry’s particular situation. Overall it was less of a risk to have her know since she had to consider his confidentiality already as a government employee. At least the day had gotten off to a pleasant start.

**GITLOH**

If he was being honest with himself, Simon was eager. Yes, he was eager. Not only was he looking forward to giving this illustrious headmaster what for about the awful things that had happened at his daughter’s school, but also to show Harry that adults would stand up for you, and happily. These children weren’t supposed to be carrying the weight of the world at their age. There were many more reasons to be sure, but Simon had imagined this moment dozens of times since the meeting was set. Of course, the one thing he really wanted to tell Albus Dumbledore, was not ready yet. So naturally all his fantasies had been involving that little tidbit of information being dropped on the old man with all the casual grace of an atomic bomb.

Simon Granger was a rather realistic man after all.

As much as he wanted resolutions, this was going to be a meeting about meetings. There were so many topics to cover that it would be impossible to get results on all of them.

He hated meetings about meetings; they were always so, surface level.

Together they all hopped in the car and drove to London. From there they would take the floo from the Leaky Cauldron to the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts. Apparently there was the option of taking a possessed purple bus that would get them there in half the time, but from Harry and Hermione's descriptions of it, Simon had declared a road trip to save his stomach the torment. The looks of relief he received at the pronouncement were satisfaction enough. For as short of a time as Harry had been with them, Simon already included him in thoughts of family. It was because of this that he and Ruth had been hard at work trying to finish their project. It was an unpleasant matter, but worth it in the end. Everything just fit so well, as much as it was confusing.

How would their lives have been different if Hermione hadn't been born a witch? It was a question that had been asked quietly many times in the Granger household over the last years. Though, for the first time, Simon was feeling like he preferred it as it was. If nothing else, Hermione had gotten a great friend and boyfriend out of the deal. And she was happy, so happy, like a normal girl again. Not that Hermione hadn't been normal, but she had been withdrawn and lacking a certain, energy for life that she exuded now so easily. The magical world had given her that it seemed.

As they drove ever closer toward London, Harry's mood changed. Simon saw those small signs of anxiety rising from him again, something Hermione was keenly aware of as well.

"Are you alright Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah I'm fine." he said.

"Oh, right, like you always are when you say that."

He grimaced. "Yeah well, I will be, isn't that enough?"

"So you won't be nervous and anxious today because you know you will be fine later?"

"Er..."

"Yeah, exactly. It doesn't work like that. Spill."

Simon shared a quick look with Ruth, unable to keep the grin off his face. Yes, they did enjoy observing those two go back and forth. Sometimes Harry managed to come out on top, but Hermione's logical maneuverings usually won over. It was nice to see someone else getting that treatment after he and his wife had dealt with it alone for so long. It was also humanizing. Hermione didn't always use big words, she didn't always quote books as often as others thought she did, but it was her mind that was the weapon. How could you defend against it? She was just too damn clever.

"People are going to see me today, we can't really help it. I know Voldemort already knows, but still, it’s different now. We're lucky there wasn't more of an explosion at the end of term."

"Maybe we could find a way to get to the papers first."

"That was another thought too, yeah. The Prophet is going to go mad."

"So what about an interview, or a promise of one."

"I thought maybe we could have Dumbledore owl them and hold them off until we come up with something."

"I like that plan, and I'm sure he will be happy to help."

"Unless we make him angry today."

"Don't be a negative Nancy."

"We have to come up with a way to keep Madame Pomfrey from being blamed."

"Yeah, not everyone is going to believe you did it to yourself. Some people will probably figure it out."

"And I know she did do it, but it wasn't intentional. Dumbledore's done loads worse to me."

"Hmm, true if you look at it that way."

"We'd just have to make sure the whole school doesn't get brought down as a result."

"Planning is my job Potter."

"Well I've spent so much time with you over the years I can't help but pick up a little."

"Yes, your work ethic has grown considerably."

Harry snorted. What would those two be like after being together for several years? Granted, they already had in a way, but being in a relationship was very different from simple friendship. Then again, they hadn't exactly had normal childhoods now had they? Why did they always make Simon question himself like that?

They were important, that's what it was.

The thought made Simon glance at them in the rear view mirror as they sat holding hands and bantering with one another like they'd been together for decades. Their love transcended disagreement. It transcended pain and difficult choices. They were important. Harry had a prophecy over his head and he had already done so much to fight in the war and simply keep himself and his friends alive. Hermione had been right there beside him.

They were important.

Simon wasn't a large believer in fate, but together those two bore responsibilities to the world at large far greater than they ever should have. It wasn't fair, but it was how things were. He'd accepted their love, as young as they were. Simon had accepted their mutual participation in events that he would rather them not be a part of. But realizing that his daughter and her boyfriend were important tot eh world filled Simon with feelings that made him both happy and terrified. The world wouldn't let them go. But neither would their family.

These kids needed to stop making him so emotional.

They were lucky, the parking spot they found was close to the Leaky Cauldron where they would meet Sliptooth. The walk was brief, but it did give Harry the chance to use some of the skills he had learned with Carrol on the empty portions of the sidewalk. He was uncomfortable and shaky, but able to trail along a couple of buildings with them walking beside him. Otherwise he took Hermione's arm and held his cane vertically by his side in Shepherd's Grip. Simon didn't blame him. Harry was growing more comfortable in their quiet residential area, but the big city was much louder and confusing. It would take time but he'd get there soon enough. Simon didn't feel bad for encouraging him to give it a try though, Harry did need to branch out a bit. But Simon also wasn't blind so he couldn't really understand exactly what the boy was going through.

Sliptooth was waiting for them beside the hearth in his human guise. Upon approaching him, Harry rubbed at his arms in discomfort.

"Hello Sliptooth, I hope your morning has been well?"

"Greetings, it has thank you. Are we ready?"

Simon eyed the fire. He had chosen this evil over that of the bus based on some stupid fear of bad drivers and mad bus managers. Looking in to the flames now he wondered if his desire to jump right in to the proverbial fire was more unwise than it had first seemed.

"Yes," he said, "I am ready to singe my eyebrows."

Hermione poked her father in the side. "Its not that bad. Besides, this was your idea."

"I know, i know."

"Yeah Simon," said Ruth, "we were all perfectly happy to ride on the nice stable bus, but nooo, somebody felt the need to test their mortality."

"Oy, I..."

"You know," said Harry, cutting of Simon's answer as he and Hermione stepped forward in to the green flames that Sliptooth had conjured with a pinch of powder. "You did bring this on yourself, sir."

The evil grin flashed across Harry's face as they stepped forward and disappeared in a whoosh of flame.

"Did you see that?" Simon growled at his wife. "The little runt called me sir. I'm going through next, can't let him get away with disrespecting his elders now can we?"

Ignoring Ruth's snort of laughter, Simon tugged her forward and right through the warm emerald of the fire. His world became abominably painful. Everything swirled and spun and screamed, though that last might have been himself. Ruth's hand in his squeezed tighter and tighter and flickers of light bombarded him, causing Simon to curl up in to a very manly ball that was absolutely more reminiscent of a hedgehog than a hamster. Yes, certainly so, because Simon had a boy to scold and he was in no way frightened.

In a burst of green flame, Simon and Ruth tumbled in to a stationary world and fell flat on their faces. Thankfully the hearth rug was plush and so only Simon's pride was bruised. He helped Ruth stand and looked about at the room they stood in. It was broad and noisy, filled with little clicks and chirps from what appeared to be silver machines and instruments upon a multitude of tables and the roar of fire as Sliptooth arrived. The large windows lent plenty of light for Simon to see Harry and Hermione standing before them and their headmaster directly behind them. The man moved to speak but Simon reached forward and poked Harry in the forehead.

"Oy, respect your elders Mr."

Harry grinned. "Yes Simon, I will."

Albus Dumbledore looked between them both with a glint in his eye, then stepped around the kids holding out his hand.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Please, call me Albus."

They shook his hand but neither Ruth nor he offered their birth names. Simon would be polite, but not overly deferential. Also, it was an awkward start to their meeting, mostly due to his interaction with Harry, but Simon didn't particularly care. The man needed to know that some people put Harry as a priority, even if it was just to poke him.

Eventually they all sat around the large desk and the headmaster offered a bowl of lemon drops. Everyone declined the unappealing treats and the man twined his fingers together before himself.

"So then, how may I help you today?"

Simon looked over at Harry who was holding Hermione's hand at his side. They had decided that he would lead the decisions on what to discuss with Albus since after all, everything had to do with him.

"You knew Sirius was innocent from the start Professor. You knew he was my godfather through the ritual, and so you knew he wouldn't have betrayed my parents. Why then did all this have to happen?"

Harry's start was a bit more direct than Simon might have liked for the maintenance of diplomacy, but it served the purpose of letting the older man know they had information.

As such, the headmaster twitched ever so slightly at the question before his calm exterior returned. "What do you know of the ritual my boy?"

What a politician; answer a question with a question.

"I know that it requires adherence, just like the unbreaking vow spell. Apparently it isn't as strict, but you still can't go against it."

"The unbreakable vow Harry. But you are correct enough. Regardless, I worry as to how you learned of a spell such as that, it is not safe."

Harry grimaced. "Professor, that isn't the point. We did research. The point is what it does and that you knew of it."

"You are correct, I did know of the bond your godfather promised to you and your parents. However he did nothing that would have broken it even if he were guilty."

"So why did you let him get sent to Azkaban? Why didn't you help us clear his name?"

"You mistake me. His actions the night of your parents' murders would not have broken the ritual vow he made, they were within the bounds..."

"Headmaster." Harry's voice grew cold and his brow creased. "Why?"

The man in question stopped mid-sentence as if surprised that Harry would interrupt him. He rested his chin on the tips of his fingers and looked up to the ceiling, face marred by a growing frown. When he spoke, his voice was strained by his tilted head.

"I held a lot of political power when the war ended. I was surrounded by people demanding my attention, I demanded my own attention. There was so much going on when the news of Sirius' crime reached me that I scarcely had time to think on it. When i did, I considered what he had done and might have done, and made a decision. I did not hold him from being sent to Azkaban because all in all it was a small matter compared to everything else. I did it because I didn't know for certain what had happened. I was as confused as everyone else."

"I don't believe that tracks professor." Simon blinked at his daughter. He'd been starting to believe the man and it seemed a logical argument for his case. People in those positions never really did have the opportunities to make good decisions.

"Go on Ms. Granger."

"You say you didn't have time, but you brought Harry to his aunt's yourself. You say Sirius was a small matter, but he was Harry's only living guardian. You say you weren't sure what had happened, well, that's what a trial is for. I know it must have been hard, but none of your reasons make sense."

Harry beamed at her making Hermione blush. Simon was equally proud of his daughter, she never missed a beat.

The look Albus leveled on her though was of profound disappointment. "Ms. Granger, I daresay you do not understand what it was like, nor what such a position can be like. I of course in hindsight regret my decisions but always wondering if we had acted differently only brings about the inability to make decisions in the future."

"And what about third year?" Harry said. "Why didn't you do more to help Sirius then? If anyone could have made the difference it would have been you."

"Again, I..."

"I don't think that using the same hindsight excuse works more than once professor. People start to wonder when you won't use it."

The headmaster frowned at Harry. "Being angry with me will not help make my answers more acceptable to you my boy."

"I'm not angry. I want answers, not excuses."

Simon couldn't have been more proud of Harry. He peeked over at Ruth who was trying to suppress a smirk.

"I told you once Harry that I would never lie to you."

"But you can tell the truth and still not answer the question, or avoid answering it. I figured I'd ask you the questions because I want the answers and we've talked a bit before. But Sliptooth is here for a reason, I'm sure he could word things better than me if you'd prefer to answer him."

The whole conversation had become rather confrontational, something the headmaster seemed to disapprove of. Simon couldn't for the life of him figure out why though.

Albus shook his head with a slow exhaustion. "I wish i knew why you have grown to feel such anger towards me Harry."

"Your actions, headmaster. I didn't throw a tantrum when I was in your office at the end of term for nothing. Do you plan on answering?"

"Would you have yourself determine my guilt?"

Harry clenched his fist. "Professor, since it is my life you have affected, yes I would determine how it has impacted me. Am I a judge and jury? No. I don't presume to be. Seems like you're not going to answer so why don't we move on. Sliptooth?"

Everyone's attention turned to the Goblin. "As you have been Harry Potter's magical guardian, it is required that we notify you of the change in status. As Mr. Potter has been made aware of his status as Lord Potter, and additionally Lord Black, he is no longer in need of a magical guardian if he so chooses. As such, I have been appointed to his legal council until he reaches majority. Do you have any questions regarding this matter?"

Albus froze, the grandfatherly visage seeming to harden as it was fixed in place. "When do you intend to return to your aunt's house my boy?"

"Never, professor. They have abused me long enough."

"I understand your reticence but I must..."

"No." Simon blinked, realizing he had just snapped at the man. Well, might as well keep on it. "We did our research sir. His location to the Dursley household was never legalized in the non-magical world. I presume you forgot to manage that end of it when you left him on a doorstep in November. The abuse they heaped upon him is terrible regardless of guardianship. But if you combine it..." He allowed his words to trail off meaningfully. Albus blinked at him.

"And if you ever think to send him back there," said Ruth, "I will personally rip your teeth out."

Simon was surprised to hear such a tone in his wife's voice. Understandable yes, but that heartless tone was more than terrifying. Hermione too was staring at her mother with her lips parted in a silent "oh".

"You believe it was that bad then?" Albus directed at her. Before Ruth could release the response that Simon could see boiling inside her, Harry spoke up.

"As much as I would love to see you get an earful professor, that isn't why we are here. You aren't in charge of where I live from now on. The Dursleys will be addressed legally for what they did, and we need to discuss my schooling."

Dumbledore sighed then composed himself. "What would you like to discuss?"

"I'm going to need your help actually. Since I can't read print anymore I'm going to need my materials in braille. Translating it all might be difficult though unless we do it magically."

"I was thinking," started Hermione, "that we could create a spell to make a braille copy of the texts. I'm learning it along with Harry, so I might be able to help you.

For the first time, the headmaster smiled, a twinkle returning to his eye. "Curious. You know, I do believe we could do it. I will ask professor Vector to offer her opinion, but it should not be very difficult to craft a spell."

"Thank you professor." said Harry. "Also, it may take a bit longer to complete class assignments since it can take a while to read the braille, and I will either have to read my work to someone or use the spell to turn my braille writing in to print. Things to work out I suppose."

"Very true, I doubt anyone would mind giving you the time you need as long as you are doing the work necessary. I do wonder though about your practicals. It can be difficult to use magic without the ability to aim at your target."

"Yes, I understand, and I'm working on that. But that could be where some individual sessions with the professors could help."

"Perhaps, I am hopeful. I am sure we could also arrange for someone to walk you to your classes."

Harry frowned. "At first maybe professor, until I get familiar with the routes again. Eventually though I won't need the help."

Albus looked confused. "The castle is large though, and the stairs."

Harry shook his head. "I'll be fine. That is what my cane is for. I'm learning now how to use it properly so I don't need help getting places."

"Does it direct you?"

"No, it’s just a stick. But I move it across the ground and feel when it bumps things. You can get a lot more information from that than I thought before."

"Hmm."

"Obviously I'll be resigning from the quidditch team, though Umbridge did a fair job of that."

"Understandable, though under normal circumstances you would have been permitted to return to the game."

"Thanks. I'm not sure what to do about potions since it’s so visual, but maybe we can come up with something. Depends on my O.W.L. results too of course."

"As it relates to this, I think my telling you your results is acceptable for this class. For potions you received an E. Which based upon who is teaching the class this coming term, may or may not get you in to the N.E.W.T. level. I can't say for sure just yet, but it wouldn't hurt to come up with a plan if you are interested."

Hermione clearly wanted to ask for her results but held it in, the man was cruel, he shouldn't leave them to deal with her anxiety after that. Cruel, cruel man. It was never a good idea to tease Hermione with test results.

"We should meet then at some point to figure something out. How about we set up a day where we can work on the braille spell and we come up with some plans to make all this work."

"That would be perfect. Why don't I owl you some times that would work for the professor and myself and we can determine where to meet?"

"Alright. Thank you professor for your help."

"You always have my support Harry."

Harry nodded and rose. "We should probably get going to the Burrow. I don't think Mrs. Weasley would be happy with us being late for a meal."

"You are probably correct. Sliptooth, may I meet with you further once everyone leaves?"

The Goblin glanced toward Harry. "That would depend on what you wish to address."

"Oh, just this and that." said Albus.

"I should be more clear. If it is in regards to my client, then he would need to approve of our meeting since he would ultimately be the one responsible for covering the cost."

Albus frowned. "Perhaps later then, I..." he shook his head. "Yes, perhaps later. When we meet Harry, if it is here I will send you the password to my floo. You, Mr. and Mrs. Granger will only be able to enter Hogwarts through that way unless I am with you or you have skin on skin contact with a magical."

"Got it." said Simon. "If we come back, could we possibly have a tour? It would be nice to see where the kids have been learning for all these years."

Albus nodded. "We could arrange that."

Sliptooth stepped toward the fire. "Mr. Potter, if you no longer have need of my presence?"

"Yes, thank you Sliptooth. We will be in contact shortly."

"Good day then."

**GITLOH**

Sliptooth along with the uncomfortable sensation of his veil vanished with a whoosh of flames. Harry, already in an emotionally confused state, wasn't sure whether he wanted to escape the headmaster, or avoid the Weasleys. Though Dumbledore had been more than amiable near the end of the discussion, Harry wasn't kidding himself about the prior discussion. That had irritated him to no end and he knew the headmaster wasn't going to change any time soon. Which meant there would be more of those conversations to come in the future. Was he in the right mood to take his first steps back in to the real world?

The meeting had been short enough, barely that, more of a quick display of one another’s positions. It served its purpose though so it wasn't worth worrying about. Hermione took his hand and he heard her toss some powder in to the fire.

"Harry."

"Yes headmaster?" It couldn't hurt to hear what the man had to say, right?

"I hope that one day you will find it in yourself to accept the difficult decisions others have had to make."

There was a lot packaged in the statement; enough that he couldn't agree or disagree without considering it longer. Simon and Ruth said their farewells and prepared to follow himself and Hermione through the fire again. Harry called out "The Burrow" as they stepped forward, and the vertigo claimed him again. Without seeing grates and hearths of passing homes spinning around him, it was less disorienting, but it didn't remove it entirely. Air swirled about him and he felt the force of his spin as he and Hermione held hands.

Seconds later they tumbled out of the fire in to the familiar noise of the Weasley's kitchen. Amongst cheerful greetings, helping hands picked Harry off the ground and he was embraced by Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh it's so good to see you Harry dear. We're ever so glad you could make it. And hello Hermione."

As he was passed amongst the gathered redheads, the fire flared again, spitting out Hermione's parents. Harry heard Hermione bend to help them up as she spoke.

"Don't feel bad daddy, Harry ended up in Knockturn Alley the first time he tried to floo. Falling on the floor is normal."

As everyone said hello and exchanged initial pleasantries, Harry found that the numerous conversations made it hard to hear the one he was involved in. It was hardly a clamor, but since he couldn't visually attend to the person, in this case, Fred or George, he wasn't sure. Rather before he could adjust to the environment again he felt lost, separated even while conversing. When the twin stepped away, the brief second or two before Ron approached and clapped him on the back saying, "Good to see you Harry." felt agonizing. It reminded him of his first mobility lesson and somehow the two opposites melded in to one.

Too much noise was just as bad as no noise, no physical boundaries, no frame of reference. Harry had always found the Weasley noise relaxing and even appealing; but now it struck him differently. He didn't want to feel this way, he wanted to enjoy it and be happy. Anxiety was insidious however and not interested in fulfilling his desires and comforts.

"You too Ron, how are you feeling?"

"Oh I'm alright. You know me and brains, we just don't get along too well."

Harry laughed, glad Ron could joke about it at least. "I'm just glad your mum didn't flay you alive after the ministry."

"Nearly did. I've been doing chores like mad. I think she was just glad Ginny and I survived at first."

"Good then."

"Your eyes mate, I didn't realize they were all green now."

Somehow that stung, though Harry couldn't identify it. He sensed Hermione easing her way over to him, bringing relief. Maybe she could help him somehow.

"Yeah, they'll just be like that now I guess."

"Blimey, that's awful."

"I'll manage, it's not like I'm dying or anything."

As Hermione reached them, Mrs. Weasley called for everyone to move to the table for lunch. Having already discussed with the Grangers how they were going to tackle the visit, Harry didn't have to think in the moment if he wanted to get help or try it himself. He'd decided that today wasn't the day to try and prove himself in every way possible; accepting help in some ways wouldn't be the end of the world. So he took Hermione's arm and she brought him over, placing his hand on a chair back. Quietly she added, "Your glass is up to the left at about 11:00 and there's no food on the plate just yet."

"Thanks Mione." he whispered.

"Oh Hermione, I've got a seat here for you next to Ron." called Mrs. Weasley over the chatter.

Harry imagined the eye rolling the must be going on in Hermione's head, but she moved off anyway and he slid in to his chair. The first priority was to find where his utensils were so he didn't have to locate them later. He felt about around his plate and found the napkin, his fork and knife. Where was that spoon? Ah, there, under the edge of the plate.

"Hia Harry." came Ginny's voice from his left.

"Hullo Ginny. How's your summer been?"

"Oh it’s been okay, you know. Mum hasn't let us play quidditch since we got home but there's always the school team."

"Yeah, the summer is always hard when you can't fly."

"Harry dear," said Mrs. Weasley, "I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry. Would you like me to make you a sandwich instead? Would that be easier?"

And suddenly the room seemed unearthly quiet. A pulse of, something, came from Hermione a moment before Harry processed exactly why he was being asked that question. Then his own irritation sparked. Of course the Weasley matriarch was just trying to be helpful, so he squashed it down.

"No thanks Mrs. Weasley. Whatever you've already made will be perfectly fine. But thanks for asking."

"Are you sure dear? I really don't mind. It'll just take ma a..."

"Really, it's alright, I promise."

"Alright then, what can I get you there's..." and she listed off the food items available. Harry could hear others collecting and passing the serving plates around the table, so he asked for certain plates to be sent over in his direction. What he hadn't expected was for his plate to be filled with food for him. He held up a hand as if to stop whoever was doing it, but didn't know what to say, so his hand paused half way up, helplessly.

"There you go Harry. You'll be able to help him Ruth if he needs it?"

Ruth, who was sitting right beside him said a little stiffly, "I don't need to, Harry's just fine on his own."

Once the plates stopped moving about the table, Harry picked up his knife and fork intending to start by cutting up his chicken. Before he could get them to the plate, Mrs. Weasley spoke up from across the table.

"Oh no need Harry, I already cut your meat up for you."

Shame.

Harry ducked his head, blushing as if he'd just been found standing naked in the transfiguration courtyard. He didn't know what to say. Thanking her would only encourage it and telling her off felt rude. All of a sudden he didn't even want to eat, he didn't want to have people watching him. He wanted to disappear. He also didn't want these negative feelings to be focused on Molly Weasley. She was so kind and giving, but he couldn't erase how he felt.

Ruth's hand touched his arm from the right. That single contact brought Harry out of his head.

And it made him aware of the fire.

He'd felt it earlier with the headmaster and it had been building quietly as things progressed. Whether Ruth had made contact with him simply to provide support or because of her noticing how it was affecting Hermione, it didn't matter. The blaze he felt against his soul brought life to him again. Someone else was in a fury of emotion. Someone else was equally distraught, though for different reasons.

"Um, thanks Mrs. Weasley, but I can get it next time alright? That's one of the things I've been working on the last month, making sure I can do stuff like normal so people don't have to help me."

"Oh, right, sorry dear I didn't mean to overstep."

"I know you didn't, it's alright. It takes people a while to get used to."

Mr. Weasley, ever the diplomat, managed to start up a conversation with Ruth and Simon about their profession, and discussion bloomed from there. Already Harry was tired, already he was frustrated. So he focused on the ebb and flow of Hermione's emotions so close but out of reach. It grounded him amidst the talking and laughter, amidst the clink of silverware and crunch of food. Amidst the whirl of new emotional reactions and the old friendships, he needed grounding. He needed Hermione. Was he depending on her too much? Or was this how strong relationships worked?

No, he couldn't start worrying about that now, it would be too much. He'd have to ask Simon later or something. As the meal progressed, the initial tensions faded and whenever questions about his blindness did arise, he allowed the Grangers to address them as much as himself. The relief and gratitude he felt for them was potent, nearly as strong as his ability to sense Hermione. He was noticing the differences even more now, like the expressions he had once known so well that passed across her face. Like the sound of her voice, he knew them. Her anger, frustration, her fury, rage, it sparked like a power line that hung down to the street. It sparked in bursts and when it was stoked and fed, the fire generated pure emotional heat.

Her love, so keenly felt that morning and every day previous was extraordinarily different. It permeated every other sense he had of her in a constant coloring of the picture her fire represented. He knew it was her love for him by its swelling in moments of adoration and youthful romance; he knew it in the constant presence, in the undertones of their friendship and growing love for one another. Hermione's love for him pulsated, like he imagined would the Earth if he could sense it; a rhythmic beat so slow and deep that it resonated in every fiber of his being. In that resonance he was overwhelmed and joyous. In a compounding of their mutual joy in one another’s love, those emotions grew and flowered out of his ability to understand.

It was beautiful.

It was strong.

It was Hermione.

Their friendship, now solidified by finalized understanding of the feelings evoked by it and the appreciation for its foundations of iron; how might if have been different if he had been able to sense her before? Would he have known it for love or considered it something to take for granted. Either way, a fire that burned as magnificently as did her's could not be taken for granted. He only wished he had a way to show her so clearly how he felt. If only he could show her a memory. But no, the pensieve did not show emotions. Maybe there was a way to modify...

""If you'd like Harry, I can take you up on a broom while you're here if mum will let me."

Harry shook himself. Had Ginny said that?

"Er, what?"

"Oh sorry, you were thinking about something. Um, I was just saying that if you like I could ask mum if one of us could give you a broom ride while you're here since, well, you know."

Since he couldn't fly on his own anymore.

Harry's heart sank again. He couldn't fly anymore; and if he did it would be like some child being brought in the air by a parent. It wouldn't be right. It wasn't the same. If he had to go without flying, he'd just stay away from it entirely so his last memories of it were real freedom in the skies.

"Er, thanks Ginny, but I think I'm all set. I think that would be great, but I don't really want to start missing it more than I already do."

"Oh, okay. That makes sense."

"Sorry, I appreciate the offer."

"It's alright."

She still sounded disappointed.

Did she still have a thing for him? If so then that was most likely about to be shattered in the next hour or so. Several things were about to change. As if Harry hadn't dealt with enough of that lately.

When the meal was finished, the adults remained in the kitchen to talk and Ron led Harry and Hermione up to his room. In the stairwell Harry used his cane to find the steps which somehow drew an irritated pulse from Hermione. It coincided with a pause from Ron, so perhaps he was staring.

Hermione had in general been trying to keep her mouth shut, as she said it, since she didn't want to talk over or for him. Personally Harry would have preferred her talk as much as she wanted, but he understood her reasonings. It just made a much less, expressive Hermione. Of course he always had her emotions to go by, but her voice was always desired upon his ears.

When they entered his room, Ron flopped down on his bed leaving Harry and Hermione to take seats on the extra. As badly as Harry wanted to, he didn't take Hermione's hand. They had discussed this, there was a process. There had to be in order to respect Ron's feelings.

"So how'd it happen mate?" said Ron.

"Huh?" said Harry.

"Your eyes? Everyone's saying you messed up a spell but... well, it's you and things are never that simple."

Wasn't that the truth.

"Well it's kind of complicated."

"Of course it is, so are you going to tell me?"

"Of course we are," said Hermione. "but it's part of something bigger."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." said Harry. "You see, uh, I, well I found my soulmate Ron."

At Harry's words Ron's "What?" was drowned out by the thrum of an emotional wave from Hermione, a deep vibration that echoed with the sensations he had begun to attribute to her feelings of love.

"Yeah. So I kind of wrote Hermione a letter after the ministry saying I was sorry about the whole thing."

"Okay, but what's that have to do with it?"

"If you'd listen Ronald you might find out." she said.

"Alright, go on." said Ron.

"So yeah, I wrote her a letter."

"And it was really sweet." Hermione added with a smile.

"And Madame Pomfrey called me to the hospital wing telling me I had something she needed to check on. She gave me a potion or two and my eyes went black. She said it would get better but I couldn't see anything. Well, Hermione was there and made me come talk to her."

"And?"

"And," Harry finished, taking Hermione's hand at last, "we talked about things. And we realized we wanted to be together."

Ron was silent.

"Well," said Hermione, "Harry did, I already knew sort of. It took a bit of working out."

"So," said Ron, "that's why you went to their house this summer?"

"Yeah." said Harry. "Couldn't go to the Dursleys now could I?"

"So what, you're dating now?"

"Yes." they said together.

"Oh."

"We'll still be friends." added Hermione worriedly.

As much as they could agree that her and Ron's relationship wasn't all that healthy, she still didn't want to have him vanish from their lives. He wasn't a bad person, just partially unequipped to coexist with someone like her. As temperamental as Ron could be, they had hoped he would handle it alright if they told him together and away from anyone else to give him time to think about it.

"Okay, um, I don't really know what to do with that."

Well that was a little different, they weren't about to try and dictate what he should do.

"Well, we wanted to tell you now so you['d have some time before everyone else learns about it." said Hermione.

"Yeah, thanks. Yeah, I, uh, congratulations I guess. Can i think about it for a bit?"

"Course you can. To be honest we thought you might be upset."

"Yeah well. Not right now, I mean you did tell me. It's going to be weird now though isn't it?"

"It doesn't have to be."

"Yeah it doesn't have to be Ron. But i have to say one obligatory thing okay? Don't be mean to my girlfriend or I'll hex your bits off. Got it?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Would, would you even be able to do that now?"

Harry cleared his throat with a smile. "Pretty sure you're not supposed to defuse my threat like that Ron. You're supposed to accept it and leave me feeling all manly or something."

"Right."

The rest of their visit was pleasant enough. Conversation flowed more easily after that and eventually everyone ended up back in the kitchen to mingle before Harry and the Grangers left. When that time did arrive, Molly gave Harry a tight hug and whispered, "I'm sorry, I'll try and learn alright? I'm very proud of you Harry dear."

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley. And we're all learning together so it's okay."

He wasn't sure what Simon and Ruth had said, but clearly it had gotten through. He didn't thank them, it wasn't needed. There was an understanding between them now, a kind of familial bond where they took care of him and he grew to trust them ever more. He liked it that way. It was new and strong and, right. It just felt right.

They took the floo back to the Leaky Cauldron and debriefed on the way home. Apparently Ruth had convinced Arthur to calm down a bit about his enthusiasm, and had promised to get him some up-to-date books on culture and technology. As much as Harry had been prepared to find entertainment in an explosion from Ron, he was rather pleased it hadn't come to that. Of course he'd still been in shock, but sometimes an initial impression was more solid than one thought.

**GITLOH**

Author’s Note:

Vision would have granted me an entirely different life than the one I hold now in my presence and in my memory. Everything I have, everything I am, everything I hold blessed and dear, is enveloped in this life. Were i fully sighted I would not have the friends I do, I would not have the job I hold, I would not think the way I do, I would not care the same way I do. In my life, my essence is formed directly as a result of imperfect vision. And so I celebrate it.

There are moments, similar to those above and prior, where the result of my flawed vision has brought me to tears. There are times when other people treat me as less than one of them simply for the one thing that makes me who I am. And yet, it is not what I use to define me. There are times when I despair, there are times when I rage and weep, there are times when i hope for a different path. Those times, those moments grow ever farther apart, ever more frail. I know my remaining vision will fade, I know this with certainty.

I am prepared for this with skill and mind and plan; I move forward and teach forward because pretending I am any less capable than all others is only a willful crutch. As above in Harry’s reactions in this chapter, there is much truth; in the calm appreciation, in the silent irritation, in the peace in knowing that in the end, vision or the lack there of matters little.

Love does matter however. So we must focus on that, on its warmth, on its fire, on its spark and on its flare.

Glory in the light of hope.

Elise

Post Script:

Every piece I write, every story, reaches from a different part of me. As such, the emotions and trials of life affect the tides within. This story in particular is delicate to me, and not because of my vision. It is one thing to write of sappy teenage romance, but it is another to attempt to portray love as a creature that grows and feeds, warming itself by the fires of passion and loping along through the fields of exploration.

I would not have this story adversely affected by my experiences. I had to scrap the majority of what I had written for this chapter after a traumatic event I went through last month. I know I see things differently now and i would hate to see this story suffer for it. Know that I will push ever to keep this story free of external factors and please kindly share if it seems that colors of life seep in through cracks previously unseen. This story is for you, for me, and for the words written within it.

Blessed Be


	11. To Breathe

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 11:

To Breathe

The hours were unmoving, silent, steady; their passing only told in the story of shifting moonlight and quiet respiration. Hermione treasured this even as she begged the time to slide faster in answer to her aching legs. Her night, devoid of sleep, had been spent in a cross-legged position upon her bed, presiding over the sleeping form of her Harry. So much of her lived in him, so much of her depended on him, relied upon him, craved him. So much of her desired the night to flee so he might wake and she shift. So much of her desired the night to halt, moonlight pausing its race from within her room. All she wanted was to watch him sleep, to know he was safe, to know he was near, to know he was her own.

In these simple needs, Hermione felt aged; like the tentative first steps of the war they were now embroiled in had scoured away the youth she knew had never truly resided in her life. It was a satisfied age however, one embraced by love and support before the numbers of passing years could cripple her. It was in this quiet observation that she felt the bonds of matured concepts. Hermione could look down upon Harry's sleeping form and not solely crave the physical pleasures she knew he could provide. She could watch his resting face and not solely consider the taste and feel of his lips. She could consider the love within him, the intangible thoughts and presence that made Harry who he was. Those spiritually gaseous manifestations of the mind were foremost to her. Perhaps they would not be so if Harry had not developed the additional sense he had, but it was the way her love functioned now.

Harry had tried to explain to her about how he sensed her; offering words and adjectives that melded sound and feeling and sensation in to a muddle of concepts Hermione was unable to grasp. There was something beautiful about what he described in near reverent tones. Even she wanted to sense it for herself. With what he described, Hermione had sat this night, attempting to analyze just how she felt about him, curious if that was what he had been trying to describe. Her own feelings were equally different to manifest in to words, though no descriptors she could muster came close to anything he had used. Hermione attributed this to it being a magical sense and gave up trying to find it inside herself. That did not mean she didn’t want to feel what he did though. When Harry had spoken of what he felt from her, how her love vibrated and roared like the sea, and how her anger and excitement sparked like fire and lightning from the heavens, he had wept. He had wept in her arms, bringing her to tears as well for what girl wouldn’t cry when her boyfriend was brought to tears in the simple attempt of telling her how she made him feel. They bonded in that somehow, both needing that confirmation, that love. In a way, their friendship had left them craving validation above what they offered on a daily basis.

What they gave of themselves to the other every day was the foundation, the adhesive that allowed them to build other towers of emotion and grasp them with love rather than cautious fervor. Their closeness and mutual understanding was hungry, it demanded higher and higher communication and feeling. Nothing less than true openness and love would sate its need. Neither of them was interested in holding back. The few matters that had caused them upset recently were present as reminders that if they only spoke and talked and listened, then there was no difficulty they could not overcome. It was a fairytale love, something Hermione neither wanted to question or take for granted.

She had felt silly, considering their closeness with such esteem until the words of her mother had sunk in. When speaking to her about Harry and their relationship, Ruth Granger had not smiled indulgently at her child and praised her for enjoying the honeymoon phase of their courtship. Instead she had smiled and told her daughter that there was clearly something deeper between them. She had warned of their youth, but also said that with friendship as long and solid as their’s, it was more likely that if they failed at love, they would manage to return to constant friends. The affect they had on one another’s lives was too great to lose at this juncture.

So Hermione watched Harry sleep as the moonlight slid ever further from the sky and wondered at her luck. Her fortune was worthy of a book, worthy of telling stories. It was the kind of love that people bought and sold books over; learning of the charming and fantastically devoted man who had fallen in love with the bookish and unpopular girl. Well, Harry had disabused her of some of those notions, but that in no way made their love less intense or worthy of a tale. She couldn’t lay in his arms and feel ugly any longer. She couldn’t cup his cheek and not feel appreciated. Hermione couldn’t contest his will with laughter or charm or frustration and not feel valued. There was something about it that upheld her mind in an unfamiliar state of self-worth. Hermione for once, had the opportunity to be exactly what she had always wanted to be.

Herself.

Harry, if he accepted their offer later that morning would be bound to her parents by signature and legality; giving him a safe place to land and those who loved him as his protectors. But it also meant that even as an adult he would have those who would be happy to call him their son. During their stay in the hospital wing, Harry had retold the story of his viewing of the Mirror of Erised. He told her the truth this time; of how he would have been happy to let the world die around him if he could just stay there and look upon those who had died for his life. He told her how sad he had been, how only that painful experience had made him truly realize how badly he needed herself and Ron. Not for friendship alone, but to feel befriended. They were to him the first people that had shown him basic human kindness and accepted him in to their lives without treating him like a celebrity. His story was an odd parody of Hermione’s own, prompting her to speak of her concerns and fears in turn. Their friendship would never be weak again.

If it hadn’t been for Harry, her parents might never have seen Hogwarts. Without his need allowing them access to the headmaster, Hermione might have kept them away from the school where she would have been without friends. Instead, they had been allowed within the ancient halls of the castle and would soon be touring it to see all the places she loved so dearly. Unable to cross the wards directly, they would have to remain within the boundaries, but that was of little concern. The initial implication within “Hogwarts a History” was that non-magicals could never enter the castle. However as Dumbledore had explained in a letter, they could simply not enter through external approach, or cross the wards in exit. The muggle repelling wards were too strong for that, but there was nothing keeping them out once they were already within the bounds. It just went to show how little the magical world cared for muggle-borns and their parents that they failed to explain exactly how non-magicals were kept out of the castle.

Harry stirred in his sleep, turning toward her and curling around where she sat, resting a hand on one of her knees. She took that hand in the one that was not toying with her hair and considered him. From today, and a scant fifty days after, they would be the same age. It was strange in a way to think that he was nearly a year younger than her. With everything he had done, and everything he made her feel, it always seemed as if he should be older by right. But instead the world had reversed that seemingly obvious point and given her the age. She never looked at him that way, unless perhaps he was ignoring his work with Ron. That however hadn’t happened as much the last year and it didn’t seem as if Harry would be nearly so inclined to do so going forward. For less than one seventh of a year, they would be sixteen together. Then Hermione would be a legal adult, able to properly stand up for him if it came to it for once. Not that legality mattered to her when it came to that.

For a moment Hermione closed her eyes and listened to the quiet house; the soft breathing of her boyfriend and the air coming from her own lungs. She held his hand in that quiet dark and thought of his words of reverence. To be described so. It broke her heart with love.

Would he accept their plan? Would he reject the contract out of disgust as she nearly had? Her confidence in their love was much stronger than it once had been, but something like this could cause a rift. It was from their love for him that they did this; hopefully he would see it that way too.

As was common, Harry woke before the sun flared in to the sky above, shifting from ebony shades of blue and purple to rising greys and faded sky blue. He pulled closer to her as his breathing grew deeper and shorted, hand gripping her’s with a gentle force.

Hermione dipped her head and looked down at him with a smile. “Happy birthday Harry.”

His face lit with a warm smile that only made her own grow. This was something they could have together.

“Thanks love. How’d you sleep?” he yawned and tugged at her hand, pulling her down to him. Hermione didn’t resist and allowed her legs to unbend for the first time in far too long, drawing a wince and the steady build of needle-sharp pains all through the two limbs.

“Well enough.”

He snorted at her lie. “Yeah, sure you did. How long were you sitting there if it hurt to move just now?”

She ignored the question and wiggled her legs frantically, deciding that distraction was probably the only way to get past the building pain. The kiss was a great one too, with Harry pulling her to him and gripping her hair, but it wasn’t enough. She leaned back with a small gasp and squealed, squeezing his hand as her legs burst in to flickering stabs of agony. It was nothing compared to the curse she had been hit with at the ministry, but this was different. Waking up sleeping limbs was terrible in its own right.

Harry grimaced in sympathy and sat up, reaching down to begin rubbing at her legs. She knew it would speed up the process but it hurt in the short term.

Though as the discomfort ebbed, something else took its place. With an awkward whimper, Hermione placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Thank you, but you should probably stop that now for both our sakes.”

He took his hands away and then pouted adorably. “But what about my present?”

Hermione poked him in the rib. “You don’t get to unwrap this one just yet Potter.”

“Aww, but you’re the only one I wanted.”

“How am I supposed to pretend to be irritated with you when you’re so damn sweet?”

The grin that grew on his lips was evil and Hermione wished dearly she hadn’t said whatever she had just said because apparently something had given him an opening.

“Language Hermione.”

Some amount of a feral growl came out of her and some amount of ruthless tickling of the birthday brat ensued until her parents noisily stomped down the hall to knock on the door. Of course they were talking at full volume and knocking so loudly and for so long that their acting was borderline pathetic.

“Just come in children!” Harry called when Hermione let him have a breath. “Maybe you can rescue me from the fiend you have created.”

Of course it was a mistake to allow them in since he was now outnumbered, and the three of them carried him out of the room and downstairs, setting him on the couch without ceremony and declaring that if he moved a muscle off that sofa he wouldn’t get a single present. Harry bore their teasing with a baffled sort of grin, one Hermione knew well enough now to know that he was well enjoying this thing that was happening to him. A thing he had never dreamed could exist for him. So Hermione joined her parents in light-hearted jabs about Harry’s age, or about how he had best act like a grown man now or else shame their exceedingly magnificent hospitality. She worked all the harder to drill in to his mind that this was not going away; that Harry deserved to be loved by more than just her. This entire day was about that, showing Harry that yes, this was his birthday, but regardless of such, he was a part of them and they him. He was a part of her, buried inside her heart. It would take more than magic to undo the ropes that bound him to her. Because Harry deserved it, because he needed it, because he had been lacking in familial love for so long. Starved of what she and her parents were so ready and willing to offer him.

Both starved, both craving, both deserving. She and Harry were one in the same in this.

“You’ve already bought me clothes, you didn’t have to get me anything.” Harry wined at them after everyone had gathered in the living room following the removal of breakfast materials from the center table.

“Oh, right.” said her mum, “can’t make up for lost years now can we. Alright Simon, go burn the puppy we bought him.”

“Yes mistress. Kill the puppy, kill the…”

“Alright alright!” Harry cut them off amidst laughter and her father’s terrible attempt at a stooped and twisted old servant. “I get the point.

But it was family, and he knew it.

So Harry accepted gifts of yet more clothes, a chess set with pins in half the pieces so he could feel the difference, a watch that opened so one could feel the hands move around a circle of twelve dots, and what he clearly cared for the most, a book.

“It’s in grade 2 braille, so you’ll have to wait to read it,” her father said as Harry opened the package. “And it is only the first of a whole world to explore, but for me it has always been more. If you like it, we’ll see about getting the others in braille too. Maybe it will bring a different kind of magic in to your life, one I found early on.”

“What’s it about?” Harry asked. His hands passed over the volumes of text larger than any book Carrol had yet shown them. It was a perfect example of just how inconveniently large braille books could be.

“It’s about an ordinary fellow who gets dragged in to something magical. He meets Elves and Dwarves and a dragon. But it’s the lesson he learns along the way that really connect with people. This book and those that follow are well loved.” Hermione’s mother snorted.

“That’s like saying the Queen is royal dear.”

Hermione watched Harry’s fingers trace over the edge of the cover, just near the spine where the title was embossed. His fingers used the same tenderness to read braille as when he touched her face or brushed her hair.

“What is it called?”

“The Hobbit.”

When Harry teared up at this pronouncement, the learned that this was the first book about magic and fantasy that he had ever been given without demand. His whole childhood he had wanted to escape his relatives, and when he finally arrived at magic school, that magic he learned was homework. Homework, something he’d been trained to be poor at.

This was an awakening for him in a sense, a new freedom. Just one of the many they had begun experiencing since the end of term. A summer of change indeed.

When the initial celebration was complete, Hermione helped Harry carry his treasures up to his room; one they now shared as much as her own. Harry moved to the night stand, reaching for the scroll that lay upon it, but Hermione stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Not yet,” she said. It wasn’t a command, but a request. One that she clearly saw give him a flicker of sadness that was washed away by acceptance. He did trust her, it was clear.

“Alright. We’ll do it later then.”

And without a question he turned away from his parents' will and returned to the living room with her. There was something important in such a simple gesture; something to do with priority and trust, but Hermione didn’t feel prepared to properly analyze that just yet.

Harry made to pull her down on to the sofa with him, but Hermione knelt down in front of him instead, briefly looking over her shoulder for a glance of support from her parents. This had initially been their idea, but it was rightfully her presentation. She held Harry's hands in his lap and he looked at her curiously.

"What's up Mione?"

When she opened her mouth to speak, words failed. She'd practiced this, and after all it wasn't nearly so complicated as it seemed.

But why couldn't she speak.

Harry stroked her hands, color coming to his cheeks, embarrassment?

"You alright Mione?"

She was trying not to launch in to classroom mode where she just spouted everything in her brain about a topic. This didn't deserve that. Her parents were silent behind her, but Harry brought a hand to her cheek.

She wasn't even crying, what was wrong with her?

"You know I love you. You don't have to find the right words for me. Just say what's on your mind and I'll get a dictionary later alright?"

No! She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry.

But one of his fingers slid to her lips and pressed upward ever so gently. She couldn't help but smile, her face just did it and the conflicting emotions canceled each other out.

"Well, we had an idea. Mummy and daddy did really, but I like it too now that they described it to me. You see, you only have one year left before you're 17 and you sort of need a guardian. I mean it might help to have one, and one that you might actually want. We wanted to try and adopt you but loads of religions disagree with, well, adopted siblings marrying and the law is a bit shaky on it as well. So we thought that maybe a light contract, one that doesn't really do anything might be better. I brailled it for you, or I can read it if you want. It just, says that you and I agree to enter a formal courtship that while we're in it my parents would be responsible for you as your guardians. Of course we could end it at any time without repercussions, since really we just want to give you parents of a sort. It doesn't require marriage or anything, it's really empty for the most-part, but it serves a purpose..."

Hermione trailed off, words failing again. Going off like that helped her say what she needed to without worrying about the words, but now she was blushing. Marriage, what would he think of her?

"Okay, so, you didn't want to adopt me because you think you might want to get married someday?"

Hermione lowered her head to their hands, not wanting to see his expression. "Yes. Maybe."

"And so you created a contract that basically lets us keep doing what we already are, but gives me your parents as guardians if I want?"

"Yes."

"So what you're saying is that you might like to get married someday, but you're not sure, so you'd like to keep being in a relationship. And that you're willing for that relationship to let me share your parents until I turn 17. And that there are no binding bits about having to get married or have a specific amount of children or anything old fashioned like that?"

"Yes."

"So, you're worried because you think I might not want to marry you eventually?"

A pause, then a strangled, "Yes."

"You know Simon, Ruth, your daughter is brilliant, but she worries about the strangest things."

They didn't say anything back to him.

"So even though you're kneeling right now, I still get to propose when it's time?"

Her head snapped up and she locked eyes with him. Harry was smiling at her, his head tilted to the side a little.

Her father mumbled something behind her but loud enough for everyone to hear. "Women and proposals, it's almost like they enjoy making us beg on our knees or something."

A quiet smack. "Quiet you."

"Yes ma'am."

Hermione couldn't make herself speak above a whisper. "So, you'll do it?"

Harry nodded. "Love, of course I will. How could I not. I mean, we get to keep being together and there isn't any extra pressure or anything. And it means i have a piece of paper that says we're formally courting. Doesn't get much better than that."

She leaned forward to kiss him, but Harry stopped her, still smiling. "In a second, I have to thank these two first."

Well, she had to allow him that. Hermione moved out of his way and Harry stood, keeping her hand in his and moved around the table. He stopped in front of her parents, but then it became his turn to be uncomfortable. Harry started shifting and blushing again.

"Um, honestly it seems like the Hermione part is easier. I don't honestly know what to say. Thank you really doesn't seem enough. I mean we've really only known each other a month now and you're offering to..." Harry had to swallow and try again. Hermione rubbed a hand across his lower back.

"You're offering something I really haven't ever had. And you wanted to adopt me, I can't tell you how much that means. I don't know what I did to deserve this."

Her mum got up and wrapped Harry in a hug. "Sweetie, no child has to earn parents. And yes it has been a short amount of time, but I know I speak for all of us when I say you fit right in to this family. Really now we're just waiting on Hermione to get you to propose to her. Some people just can't get it going."

Hermione rolled her eyes, her heart skipping a beat. So much talk of marriage. She was young, but she loved him and then again, loads of people got married out of school. Besides, they were just factoring it in for the long-term.

Her father joined them in a group hug, no one holding a dry eye. Eventually they sat and discussed, reading over the formally informal contract to make sure everyone was happy with the wording. Her parents explained that they had met with Sliptooth about this to make sure it would hold and that it wouldn't void anything important for him.

It was only when the rapping came to the kitchen window that their close discussion came to an end. Harry ran upstairs to collect his parents' will, and Hermione collected the admittedly heavy package from the Gringots owl. It was expected, thanks to their dealings with Sliptooth, but as to what exactly it was, they did not yet know. She placed it upon the living room table and sat beside Harry, taking the unfurled scroll he handed her. The will, they knew the first part of it, but there was a section designated to be read only once Harry turned 16. Sliptooth had told them that he would be receiving a package that day as well and that the section of the will should be read first.

Hermione located the necessary section and read aloud. "Upon the date of July the 31st in the year 1996, the sixteenth birthday of our son, he should be provided with the following items. First being the pensieve residing in the Potter vault, which may remain in his custody if he so wishes. Second being the memory container labeled with the above date regarding this notice. This memory is considered private and therefore shall be presented to our son so he may view it so. Though this memory includes our words to him directly, they are unrelated to further actions of this will, as they may be updated if we see fit."

Harry sat silently even after Hermione finished the passage. She took his hand and turned to face him. Her boyfriend was silent, no tears, no anxiety, just still. The Potters owned a pensieve. Harry had told her that Dumbledore owned one, but they were extremely rare. It wasn't even that they were complex to make, rather the materials needed to make them as well as the amount of power put in to the spellwork, raised the price to an excruciating height. For those who did own them, the ministry kept a record. They wanted to be aware at all times of who exactly could view memories in such a way.

"They left me a memory just for this." The pained awe in his voice hurt. Altogether this day might end up being too much for him. Then again, they'd had so many emotionally charged days in the last month or so that he'd probably make it through alright.

"It seems so. The package is on the table there. Do you want me to read the letter? I think it's from Sliptooth."

He nodded absently.

She detached the parchment from the brown paper and broke the seal.

"Mr. Potter. Your parents chose during your youth to adopt a Goblin tradition of gifting during times of war. Therefore, you have this memory they have designated along with the pensieve. For us, war amongst the clans is a frequent disturbance and so Goblin parents have established procedures to manage this. Your mother and father learned of this and chose to adopt the process for you due to their uncertainty. It is therefore, my pleasure to wish you a pleasant year to come on this day of your birth. Sliptooth."

Harry leaned forward and unwrapped the package, revealing an ornate stone bowl decorated with rubies and gold along the rim. Inside rested a single vial that glowed a soft silver. He unscrewed the top and tipped it over, letting the single fluid strand of memory drop in to the basin. Her parents stood from their chairs.

"Why don't we let you..."

"No, I'd, I'd like you all to come with me if you don't mind. Please?"

Hermione squeezed his hand. "We're with you Harry. What do we do?"

He hesitated, hand on the rim, touching one of the arcing designs inlaid with gold. "You put your head in the bowl and it'll do the rest. It feels weird at first, but you get to see what happened as if you were there."

"If you're sure you want us," said her dad, "then we're happy to join you."

"Thanks." Harry took a deep breath then let it out. "Okay, I'll go, then you go right after okay?"

Then he lowered his face to the stone of the pensieve, and vanished. Hermione had never done this before but knew better than to wait, so she too leaned forward and felt the world spin. She was falling, falling..

Then with a thud, she landed beside Harry in a kitchen, standing beside an empty table. A second later her mother, then father dropped in as well. As she took Harry's hand, voices came from the next room, coming closer.

"You all set Lils?"

"All set."

Two people stepped in to the doorway, one fair with ruby hair and the other near to exact what Harry looked like.

She narrated quietly even though they wouldn't hear her. "Your mum and dad, they have a cake with a load of candles on it."

His parents brought the cake to the table and set it down, then looked in the direction of where Harry stood. And they started to sing.

"Happy birthday to you."

Harry sagged, falling to his knees beside her, sudden tears streaming from his eyes.

"Happy birthday to you."

Hermione, seeing the hopeful yet sad faces of the two parents who were only a few years older than themselves, knelt and took Harry in her arms.

"Happy birthday dear Harry."

His mouth was open as if to cry out but no sound came, only a long held breath of pain and misery.

"Happy birthday to you."

Her parents laid their hands on Harry's shoulders and he buried his face in Hermione's. She couldn't take her eyes from Lily and James, the latter of which was coming around the table to stand nearer them.

Before he spoke, Hermione said through her own tears, "Your mum's cutting the cake."

"Harry," his father said, "Pronglet, my son. You're sixteen now, you've taken your O.W.L.s, you get to choose what to do with your life now. I don't," he paused gathering himself, "I don't know if you remember us at all. No one is really sure how all this will end."

Hermione continued, "Your mum is bringing you a piece."

Lily set the plate in front of the chair before her son and extended a hand in his direction, face twisted with her own sorrows. Hermione took Harry's hand and drew it forward, passing it through where Lily's hung, insubstantial and limp; as if she knew she'd never touch him and couldn't bear to put in more hope than that.

"My sweet baby." she said.

Harry's tears were more violent now, his breathing hard and fast.

Hermione bent to put her mouth to Harry's ear. "That's where her hand is, she's holding it out to you."

He whimpered in response, a pitiful noise amidst the sobs and fight for air.

"We love you so much sweetheart." Lily continued. "You're sleeping upstairs right now. You're so precious to us. I, we, we love you Harry."

Lily dropped her hand and returned to the cake, cutting two more pieces and placing them for herself and James.

"If all has gone as well as we can hope, you've had a nice childhood with your godparents Sirius and Alice, the Longbottoms, or with the Tonks' family or Minerva." James leaned forward conspiratorially. "You get to call her Minerva once you graduate."

He winked then stood up and moved to the table. Neither he nor his wife touched their cake, instead choosing to stand by their seats, hands clasped between them as they looked to where the watchers stood.

"We don't really know what we're doing." Lily said with a small smile, fighting to keep her face from a grimace, one tear making its way down her cheek. "But we love you. We wanted to have a baby so badly, and we're so glad we did. You bring so much light to our lives."

"And poop." said James. Lily rolled her eyes. "What? You're right Lils, we don't know what we're doing, I'm pretty sure that the first time i changed your nappies Harry I got more poo on myself than you did."

Harry choked out a half laugh, managing to manipulate his lungs enough to breathe, and standing up with Hermione. Then her father spoke amidst a pause.

"They're standing there holding hands like you and Hermione do. She's giving him a look that I'm pretty sure Hermione stole from her somehow."

"Your father," said Lily, "is impossible. But we like him that way."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you like me more even though I can't do the breast feeding bit."

Lily's free hand snapped up and took her husband by the ear, giving it a quick tug in a movement that seemed so practiced as to not even require thought. At the same time, Hermione said "Boys" Lily said "men," and Ruth said "children, all of you."

Harry finally smiled, blinking away the last of his tears and giving Hermione a quick kiss.

"Ow, alright, sorry." James pointed at his wife saying, “You’d think she was a seeker with that instinct.” He dodged another grab. “Anyway, we wanted to make sure you knew some things about us. Our friends will tell you I’m sure, but Lily and i thought we’d like to share too.”

“So we came up with a couple of stories we’d each like to tell you, and, some other things. We know that it’s hard to know people you don’t know the little details about, the filler information. Some of that is here, but the rest you’ll have in the vault with the rest of our memories we selected to leave for you. It isn’t enough sweetheart, it never will be. But, we don’t know what’s going to happen and if you have to grow up without us… Well, we want you to be able to get to know us if, if you want to.”

So they talked, and shared. The observers sat on the floor and listened, holding each other close as Lily and James shared stories they said they’d never shared with anyone. They asked pre-prepared questions so they could have the excuse of talking about such random parts of their lives. They read writings they had composed for him. And they talked to him.

They were so young. Hermione couldn’t help but feel sorrow simply for how youthful they were while taking on such a task. Harry sat in her arms and wept quietly or laughed or frowned. Their words brought an emotional maelstrom to the others. Seeing two people lay themselves bare as they were, with their flaws and strengths, their dreams and wishes.

It bespoke of just how much they loved Harry that they gave of themselves so freely.

And when they were done, their words running low and their tears returning, Lily and James said goodbye to their baby boy. They each stepped forward with their arms out as if to hug him and Hermione helped Harry align so that he stood as much between their arms as he could. James mimed patting Harry’s back and whispered, “We will never stop fighting for you so you never have to see this.” When Lily came forward she had to be supported by James while she embraced the air with her arms and tears.

“My sweet child, I am always with you. No matter what anyone says, no matter who you love, no matter who takes care of you, no matter who you call mummy, i am always with you.”

The jolt of shifting memory that returned her party to the living room felt out of place amidst the mixed love and sorrow. There was silence, a reigning presence while emotions were processed and hands held. The rest of the day was spent in a haze of realized joy and flavored sadness, something that did not darken the mood but enriched it with potency. They ate their own cake and Harry asked that they set aside two pieces for his parents which they left at open chairs around the table. They placed a candle in each one, and lit them to remain until they died out. Those two pieces would later be frozen, stored and kept in memory of his parents until they could visit their graves.

Harry admitted that he felt it wasn’t really enough but Hermione assured him that it was both sweet, and exactly what they would appreciate.

**GITLOH**

Harry lay with Hermione curled in his arms, her cheek against his chest and her legs about his. It was this closeness, unmarred by urges of the flesh that he appreciated so deeply. It was one thing to want so badly to enjoy the carnal urges with her, but another entirely to find peace in physical proximity. Her breath was warm against his skin, her arms encircling him while they lay in bed together. He wasn’t sure if there was moonlight or if they lay in a world of black as empty as his sight. With the emotional highs and lows of the day, he’d barely spent a moment away from her. For how much time they spent in such closeness he was impressed that they did not get tired of one another. They still did their own tasks and interests separately but other than that separation was undesirable.

Hermione’s cheek was soft and warm beneath his fingers as he brushed them across her flesh. Her eyes were closed and every so often she would emit a small mewl of satisfaction and squirm just a little closer to him. He had been given so much this day, love and gifts and knowledge and…

His hand paused. After a few seconds, Hermione uttered a questioning sound.

“I have a family.” They were really the only words that made sense with his emotions.

Her own hand stroked down his chest. “Yes, you do love.”

“I know, but, I mean, I have a family. I have people I can go to. I know loads about my mum and dad now. And I have their voices.”

“What do you mean?”

“The only times I ever heard their voices before were from the dementors. I’d hear mum and dad screaming, and mum begging Voldemort not to kill me, to take her instead. Now, I know how they laugh. I know how they cry, I know how they tease one another. I know what they sound like other than when someone is about to kill us all.”

Her lips pressed to his chest. “I’m happy for you sweetheart. I can’t even imagine how happy that must make you.”

“Well, you know that letter I wrote you while you were in the hospital wing?”

Hermione snorted. “No Harry, I don’t remember the letter that started our relationship.”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, now i know what parents should be like. I have that memory, and i have your mum and dad. Honestly this summer has been amazing, I feel like a whole new person in a way. Having you, and your parents, and my mum and dad… I wouldn’t be anything like I am if I didn’t have those things.”

“And you me sweetheart.”

“Um, do I, rely on you too much?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Well, I know I’m not a burden, it’s nothing like that. I just, don’t really know what I mean. Is it okay to rely on you like this? When you aren’t around it’s like the whole world is cold. When you’re here, everything is warm and i feel like I can do anything.”

When she didn’t answer right away he realized she was actually thinking of an answer.

“Yes. It isn’t good to be dependent on each other, but it’s okay to rely on someone. We don’t fall apart when we’re not around, but we’re much better off when we are. I don’t think that’s so bad. Especially if…”

He filled in the silence, “We get married someday.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d really like that.”

“So would i.”

“I know we’re young, but one day I do want to marry you.”

She kissed him again. “And I want to be your bride Mr. Potter.”

Silence.

“They were really happy together.” He didn’t need to clarify.

“Yeah, they really were. Kind of like mum and dad are.”

“Kind of like we are.”

“Exactly like we are.”

“Just don’t grab my ears okay?”

“There’s plenty of oth… Sure, I won’t grab your ears.”

“And I’ll always tell people how amazing you are.”

“Oh how sweet.”

“Yup.”

“Poop.”

“No, that’s my dad.”

“Boys.”

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for everything today. I couldn’t have gotten through without you.”

“I love you.”

“i love you too.”

“We’ll make our own happy memories for the pensieve one day.”

“You are my happy memory.”

“You and your overly cheesy one-liners.”

“Yup.”

“But I still think they’re adorable.”

“Good, I’ve been practicing.”

“Oh boy.”

“But I don’t have to practice being in love with you.”

“I hate you.”

“Yay!”

“We’re going to start experimenting on your magic now you know.”

“Yay!”

“So you’re my new project.”

“Yay!”

“Say yay one more time and I’ll give you something to yay about.”

“Um… yay?”

**GITLOH**

Author’s Note:

What is magic to us? Is it the seeming impossibility of making the world shift in abeyance to our will? Is it the manifestation of skills that seem fantastical to those who do not understand the science behind them?

I would argue that magic in our world is the gift of shared imagination. That through mere words we convey concepts so potent that even the impossible becomes real. We as readers put our trust in an author to reshape our minds for a time, long enough to show us something that is not. Magic is communication on such a level that a written or spoken code can relay near similar images and concepts to a multitude of people across the world. Magic is reading the words of one who understands the impossible and makes it feasible.

Whether we as a species had or will have strange powers, strong enough to bridge the gap of physics and imagination matters not. The greater power is sharing when there is no power. When we mundane creatures can live and exist in worlds manifested first in the mind of an egotistical author with a slight god complex. We share in these worlds and embrace them, because they are different and beautiful.

Tolkien and Rowling provided those worlds to my young mind and opened a world of imagination and fabricated realities that I personally enjoy creating.

To share as we do, the words of others and the ideas they build is profound. Be it through a website or a book, or a braille volume held in the hands of a blind child ready to take their first steps in to the realm of glorious pros.

Elise


	12. Emblems

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling

Chapter 12:

Emblems

“I’ll be honest with you headmaster. I didn’t hide it the first time we met, and I won’t do so now. I don’t like you. I don’t like what your plans and secrets have done to that young man down there.”

Simon Granger clenched and unclenched his hands upon the balcony railing as he watched his daughter and her boyfriend hex each other down by the black lake. Albus shifted beside him but didn’t otherwise react.

“You had your reasons, and I know you have others because people like you always have more reasons and more plans. I won’t hate you for those. But you have to share them.”

“And what of secrets that could destroy the world Mr. Granger? What would you have me do with those?”

“That depends. Do the police, or aurors, have them as well?”

“Unfortunately the secrets I have been burdened with are dangerous to any who do not know how to manage them.”

“So it’s a no then.”

“Yes.”

“So let me get this straight. You defeated the dark wizard version of Hitler. You were elected to Chief Warlock of the parliament in your ministry. You also represented England and the world as a whole at the International Confederation of Wizards, making you basically the leader of the magical version of the United Nations. Anything wrong so far?”

“You are correct.”

“On top of all that, you are the headmaster of a school, probably the most magically powerful wizard, Hermione says, and the leader of a vigilante group that fights Voldemort. Still correct?”

The older man sighed. “Yes.”

Simon rolled his eyes. It was as if Albus was irritated with Simon’s point. Well he should be. Down at the lake shore, Hermione was firing spells just past Harry, something to do with him trying to sense them somehow. Even when shooting magic at one another, they were smiling. He could see their heads toss or bend in laughter and his daughter was gesturing like she only did when she had just learned something incredible. Or, when Harry was around. Was this what she was like all year at school?

“On top of even that, you supposedly have secrets you feel only you can handle and so you don’t trust your law enforcement.”

“I do not trust those who manage the law enforcement.”

“Still. That makes you someone who is essentially invaluable, and under so much stress at your age that you should have had about seven ulcers by now. I’m not saying you haven’t done well, I really don’t know. I haven’t grown up in your world. But no one in the non-magical world would be allowed to hold that level of power. It is beyond too much. And secrets that can affect a war need to be spread. If you die, who is going to pass them on to those who can do something about it?”

“When he is ready, I will share what I know with Harry…”

“Then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

Simon turned from watching Harry now trying to aim hexes at Hermione, and faced Albus who was blinking at him. “Yes, and idiot, that’s what I said. Do you know why?”

“I must admit I do not.”

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve already hurt him?” Simon gestured out at the teens. “And now you want to put the responsibility of the entire war on him? Dammit headmaster, are you going mad or are you just ignorant of human psychology?”

“I can not claim deep knowledge in to the science. I have not had much time to study in the field.”

“No you haven’t. Let me tell you a little then. That young man down there, the one that makes my daughter smile? Yeah, he doesn’t like you much right now. Might have something to do with you intentionally leaving him with abusive relatives that thought it a bright idea to carve up his back like a bloody ice sculpture. Don’t look at me like that, you must have known something, Harry said your healer did. So he doesn’t like you, can’t blame him for that.”

“That, I can, understand.”

“Good, there’s hope still. Now, you did that to him and then left him to handle all the problems of the world that most adults would lose their marbles over. At the same time you told him he was not ready to be an adult, and kept the largest secret of his life’ the bloody prophecy from him.”

Albus blanched. “Why should it be a secret headmaster? It isn’t as if it tells us anything different. Yes, Harry can defeat Voldemort, Voldemort can defeat Harry. Pretty sure they both get that. You gave him the responsibilities of an adult and treated him like a careless child. Does that track with you?”

 

Albus remained silent, eyes wandering off to the horizon. Simon let him think. It likely wasn’t the first time he had heard such things, but probably the first time it was starting to make sense. He hoped it would at least.

“I’m not here to browbeat you in to changing your ways headmaster. Me not liking your methods doesn’t mean I will lose all respect for you. But you have to agree that constantly telling Harry he isn’t ready to handle certain truths in his life while simultaneously expecting him to fight a war for the country is a rather obvious double-standard.”

Albus ran a veined hand down his face. “You may have me there Mr. Granger. I can, admit my bias toward attempting to protect those I care for from the harms of war. As you say, perhaps I am, overzealous in this.”

“It isn’t a bad thing to want, but you aren’t addressing it properly.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“People in power tend to want to hold on to it. That goes for secrets as much as influence.”

Harry was now managing to levitate Hermione, following what seemed to be directions from her as she was clearly gesturing at him while he did so. Simon was pretty sure though that Harry’s decision to toss Hermione in to the lake was not going to go over quite well for the boy. Hermione rising from the water spluttering and sopping wet proved Simon right. As did the obviously magical wave of water she sent barreling in her boyfriend’s direction.

Harry must have heard it because he stepped back and pointed his wand in the general direction, calling out some spell they wouldn’t be able to hear from this distance. Something tore the wave apart, sending a cloud of spray back at Hermione. Harry however, dropped his wand but didn’t bend to pick it up.

Surrender?

Hermione who was wagging a finger at him as she sloshed her way out of the water paused, then for some reason ran at Harry and kissed him hard enough for Simon to look back at the headmaster.

The old man was chuckling quietly. “It seems they may have just had a breakthrough in their studying.”

Simon looked back to the kids to see Harry flicking his wand in all directions, Hermione becoming more and more animated as he did.

“I hate to darken his days with more knowledge, especially that of it which is grim even to my mind. But you make a fair point Mr. Granger. I can not expect him to simply obey and wait for slices of information about his own worries.”

“I doubt he will appreciate it either, but he will understand. For what it’s worth, I think it is the right decision.”

“Then I must thank you for helping me grow even at my age. Now, perhaps we should go speak with those two before they damage the castle with their excitement.”

together they turned and made their way down through the castle. Their conversation had died out, leaving Simon to wonder why he felt brave enough to talk to the man like he had. Albus could have made school for Hermione hell if he’d been the wrong kind of person.

“I should also thank you Mr. Granger for your candor.”

“Oh, well, I was just thinking of apologizing for it.”

Albus laughed. “No need. In fact, it is refreshing to be spoken to so. Only since Harry yelled at me at the end of term has anyone truly spoken to me as they would anyone else. Too many are eager to pretend agreement simply because of who I am. Perhaps it has given me a false sense of accuracy.”

“You’re welcome then. Thanks for not turning me in to a toad or something.”

He didn’t like what the man had done, but it seemed he wasn’t entirely out of his ability to be reasoned with. Yeah, Simon Granger, dentist and tamer of century-old wizards. It was one thing for the man to say he agreed with Simon, but another thing entirely to act on it. If Albus truly changed after that conversation Simon would make himself a plaque. Trophy. Simon would make himself a trophy. Dentists had a strong aversion to anything named plaque.

**GITLOH**

Hermione was dripping wet, cold, and ecstatic, all thanks to her boyfriend. He deserved to be cold and wet to know what it felt like, but Hermione was a bit too happy about their discovery to make it a reality.

“Ventus.”

Harry cast it at the nearby shrubbery and Hermione saw his face try to widen the already brilliant grin upon it. He was so handsome when he was happy like this.

The gust of wind summoned by his wand flattened the nearest shrubs, too powerful to be of practical use, but they could adjust. The ventus spell didn’t have to be one specific thing; it could manifest however the caster wanted it to. She had mostly seen it used as either a whirlwind or a single strong gust, but if imagination was the limit…

“I can feel it, it’s so strange, but it’s there!”

Hermione beamed at him, it didn’t matter that Harry couldn’t see it. She knew he could feel her emotions and that was all that mattered. Somehow the spell allowed him to sense whatever it touched. It didn’t really matter why, because it worked.

“Is it the same as when you sense me?”

Harry looked to consider, letting the wind drop. “Not really. You’re like a fire to me, but it’s more of an impression, kind of like a symbol and way for me to interpret what I feel from you. When the spell touches something, I just…” He waved a hand vaguely. “I don’t know, I can’t describe it. I don’t feel, it exactly, but it’s there. It isn’t like looking at it either.”

“You just know, in a way?”

“Yeah. Weird isn’t it?”

“Not entirely. Everything new your magic has done since you lost your vision has proven to be very much based on instinct. If you don’t have to think about it that means it isn’t a stimuli that you have to process. Your brain is interpreting it without you thinking. So it is more like the sense of smell or taste. Though you know what things are, so it almost combines interpretation and sensing so maybe it’s a version of tactile and the remains of your visual processing.”

He was smiling at her. Sometimes he did that instead of putting his finger to her lips for silence. The look that always struck him was somewhat glassy, but pleased.

“What?”

“I just like it when you’re thinking like that. You’re brilliant you know.”

Hermione blushed then went to hug him. Harry crossed his arms and pointed at her.

“Young lords like myself don’t hug young ladies who have covered themselves in water and got their clothes plastered to them. Hardly appropriate you know.”

She growled at him but cast a drying charm before tackling him.

When her father and the headmaster arrived, they found her sitting on Harry’s thighs while poking him randomly with the tip of his wand. The poor thing yelped and tried to grab her but she used the two wands she had to cast a tickling charm and then the counter so quickly that it made him twitch and lose control of what he’d been trying to do. Harry was smiling though so she presumed it wasn’t exactly torture just yet.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and turned to her father. “Well, this wasn’t the discovery it looked like they had made from up there. Perhaps we should retire for a cup of tea…”

Hermione glowered and dropped Harry’s wand on his chest then jumped up and away from him before he could catch her.

“He,” she declared, pointing at him, “dunked me in the lake. I’m just teaching him the natural pecking order.”

“Ah, is that what it is pumpkin?” Her father said with a smile.

Dumbledore spoke to him again, “You and your daughter seem to have a knack for proving points.”

Her daddy laughed and stepped forward to help Harry up. “I think that’s more her mother’s influence. I wish I could claim it, but she had practice training me before she turned to Hermione.”

Her grumble of “boys” was lost as Harry and Simon started talking loudly at each other even though they were still within arm’s reach.

“So Harry, what’d you discover!”

“Discover sir? Why, I invented a solution!”

“Oh really!”

“Yes!”

Hermione, finally being in a location where she could use magic around these two for once, fired pinching jinxes at both their buttocks and smiled at their near identical yelps of discomfort.

“Oy, that’s bullying that is.” her father wined.

“You’ll be fine. Anyway, go on Harry, tell them.”

He favored her with a smile. “Well, Hermione was rather rude and tried to drown me, so I used the ventus charm to try and stop it. I used it to just make a gust of wind, but I found that somehow I could sense the wave, and Hermione behind it, as the wind moved. So I used it on the bushes and ground and all over. I don’t know how, but it works. I can tell exactly what is there.””

The headmaster was stroking his beard. “Interesting, but hardly functional. The spell is too powerful.”

Hermione said, “Unless the power output could be adjusted.”

“That could work, if it was reduced to something others couldn’t feel, so they wouldn’t know they were being looked at.”

“And, if it could be adjusted to project in multiple directions at the same time, it may give a larger field of view.”

“Might require spell-crafting.”

“Or extensive practice.”

"Practice would be preferable, and much simpler. I would advise addressing it through that strategy while we look in to potential spell-craft for adjustment."

"That way nothing is lost either way."

Harry and her father kept turning their heads back and forth as they tracked the conversation. Harry couldn't see them obviously so that gesture was more of a hang-over from before. It was adorable though so the corner of her mouth drew up even as her mind worked a kilometer a minute. It was a different side of the headmaster that she was seeing now. In the last week or so they had visited the castle several times, either her mum or dad taking them; which allowed herself and Harry to practice and meet with the professors. In those meetings she found more of a scholar in Dumbledore as they put their heads together trying to figure out the mysteries of Harry's new magic. They would do this frequently, get lost in back and forth words as their thoughts traveled in similar directions. More often than not, whomever was around would pretend not to be there and start up an unrelated conversation to save themselves. As much as she disagreed with the man, she had to appreciate this side of his mind.

The headmaster was for once showing the part of him that had become an alchemist and a brilliant spell-crafter. In his own right he was not only powerful but brilliant. He had taken to this project with a fervor that had impressed and surprised her in equal measure. It was nice to see him become passionate and excited about something.

Maybe there was still hope for him; if not in the areas related to Harry, then for other reasons that wouldn’t require redemption of the highest magnitude.

As expected, Dumbledore began putting Harry through his paces. This she knew would both distract him and leave him exhausted. The elemental charms were draining enough without trying to sustain them for extended periods. She exchanged a glance with the professor, gesturing over to the quidditch pitch and he smiled, gesturing her forward. Hermione and her father left the other two and walked across the grounds. When Harry had been busy, Hermione had studied and practiced spells, trying to be as helpful to him as she could. But there was something else that mattered in their world that befuddled her.

Hermione was terrified of flying. Harry by contrast loved it. So she had studied it and researched the history of broom making. It didn’t help. No amount of reading or studying the art of fear, or pretending she wasn’t afraid, helped. So Hermione had taken to holding a broom while she sat and talked with her dad. The next option was aversion therapy, so she sat with the cursed thing while it lay beside her. She held it while it hovered there harmlessly. Hermione even practiced cleaning the damned thing. It helped, a little. She wasn’t afraid to look at a broom at least. Besides, it gave her and her parents bonding opportunities. Their time together had been reduced drastically ever since Hogwarts started. But this was something they could do together, in some ways anyway. No, Simon and Ruth Granger would never fly a broom, but they could support their daughter as she learned to do so for herself and Harry. That was the goal after all, her driving force. Harry might never fly a broom again. Even with this discovery of the Ventus charm’s success, it was very likely it would never work in concert with a broom in flight. So it was up to Hermione to bridge the gap. That terrifying gap.

Today would be the worst of them all. Today she would try and fly for the first time.

“There is hope for him, I think. Not much but some.” Hermione broke from her thoughts and looked to her father.

“I thought something similar when we discussed the Ventus charm. It was brief of course as you know, but those little bits show that he isn’t all,” she searched for the word as they drew near the broom shed. “lost.”

“It seems that like it or not, he is the real leader in all of this. Regardless of the minister, who is a bastard apparently, the headmaster is the one directing the important events.”

Minister Fudge had been in minor contact with Harry through Sliptooth; long enough for them to get out of him what they wanted and long enough for her father to develop a keen dislike for the man’s politics. Yes, they could now use magic outside of Hogwarts grounds for training purposes, and yes they had just gained permission to tell Carrol Turner about magic so she could better work with Harry. They had been forced to sacrifice political favors however. This only meant that Harry had to publicly provide his support for Fudge and his ability to manage the oncoming war. They’d gotten what they wanted, but all knew that such politics could be dangerous. Her father was especially furious about the minister involving a sixteen year-old boy in it all.

“He is.” she said. “Which may mean we have to have more hope in him than we like.”

“It’s important to have. It got me through some shite situations in the service.”

He never talked about it. Her fun-loving father never spoke of what had happened during his term in the military. Hermione had always thought it must be boring, not worth the words in his mouth. But this clearly indicated more. She wasn’t going to press him however, so she selected her usual broom from the shed and led the way on to the pitch. The wonderfully spell-cushioned pitch.

“It helps to have hope in your leader, even if you don’t like him much.” He continued. She thought it better to let her father say what he would, but it seemed that was all. Normally he just talked with her the whole time, but now he’d fallen silent and looked thoughtful as he stared up at the golden hoops across from them.

Trying to pretend he was still distracting her, and not wanting to lose her courage, Hermione mounted the broom, then froze. She’d worn trousers and trainers today specifically for this purpose. It wouldn’t due to fall and bruise one’s leg or have more pretty shoes fall off during flight, if she got there. But now that she was sitting on the broom, her feet firmly planted on the ground, it was hard to imagine doing anything other than resting here for the next five hours or so. Her body apparently agreed with her brain in this, and Hermione found herself looking toward the hoops as well. Until a hand laid itself over her’s at least.

She looked up in to her father’s gaze. It wasn’t dark, per se, but older than she was used to seeing it. Tired. He favored her with his usual smile though and spoke softly like he always had when she was a scared little child wanting to hide from monsters in her darkened room, before logically determining that such things did not exist.

“Do you remember the first time I helped you up on to a horse?”

Hermione nodded. She couldn’t look away from his eyes.

“This isn’t all that different pumpkin. You direct it where to go, and from what Harry has said, you don’t have to balance as much as react to how the wind is pushing you. You’re a brilliant girl, but put that aside for a bit. Why does Harry love ti so much?”

“Freedom. He likes the freedom it gives him after his relatives’ house.”

“And?”

“He loves it, if that’s what you mean?”

His smile deepened. “Stop thinking, and feel dear. Harry does love it, and it does make him feel free. But when you’re flying, or riding a horse, you’re in charge. You are the only one making decisions, you are the one deciding where to go. You are free and moving forward, and your feet aren’t touching the ground. Think of how you feel when you look at him. It’s pretty close to that.”

“How do you know all this?”

Simon patted her hands wrapped around the shaft of the broom. “Because, when you’re in a war, you’re the only hero in your own story. Everyone else can do what they want, they can help you and you them. But when you’re riding a horse, or flying a broom, or trying to survive, it’s all up to you. And you Hermione, are as independent as they come. Don’t trust the broom as much as you trust yourself. After all, you’re directing the magic in it right?”

He removed his hand and stepped back, giving the top of her head a gentle pat. He’d learned long ago not to muss her hair, the curls didn’t handle it well. “Go on then you little witch and fly like all the children’s tales say you’re supposed to.”

Somehow that made her eyes prickle. Hermione blinked rapidly then refusing to think another second about it, she kicked off.

Her first flight was a hop. She flew forward a few feet, then stumbled to a halt on the turf. It was similar to what Madam Hooch had tried to get everyone to do in their first year. She did it again, and again, each hop growing just a little longer.

Until Hermione closed her eyes and leapt in to the air with a solid kick to the ground.

Her hands felt hot as they gripped the beaten shaft of the broom with pure terror. Her eyes were squeezed shut but she knew she had to open them soon to keep from crashing. The wind whipped at her hair and Hermione found her face relaxing.

Eyes sliding open and her mouth breaking in to a smile, Hermione managed to turn herself around and move off toward the opposite end of the field. She wasn’t going all that fast as she was sitting upright. The books said you had to lean forward and rather flat on the broom to pick up real speed. Speed, didn’t matter here. In the here and now, all that mattered were the emotions rising within her that for once mirrored those she knew she’d never felt before, but heard described with such passion. Hermione could actually appreciate flying.

Then she looked down.

“Bugger.”

It wasn’t a very eloquent way to express that she had no idea how to land from such a height, even though she was only about a dozen meters above the ground. It wasn’t that she was afraid to hit the ground, it had cushioning charms after all. Hermione was if nothing else, a perfectionist. A perfectionist that had no idea how to properly angle the broom so she could land on her feet without descending at an excruciatingly slow rate. Well she couldn’t have that now could she.

After all, Harry could dive from much higher than herself and land flawlessly. The git. She would have to tickle him sufficiently to express her displeasure. Only after she told him about her flying of course. That was supposed to be a surprise for him since he would never ask her to do this for him otherwise, he was too nice like that and he thought he knew her too well. Too bad because she was going to surprise him. No one could deny Hermione Granger the right of self-growth.

So she angled downward at approximately a 35 degree angle relative to the ground and prayed the charms were strong enough.

When she struck the ground, Hermione rolled off the broom and tumbled once or twice before sprawling out on her back. She patted the turf thankfully and shook her head. It hadn’t hurt much, but the impact had still jarred her a little. In a matter of seconds her father was beside her.

“Are you alright Hermione?”

She reached up and grabbed him in a hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Thank you daddy.” she said, muffled by his shirt.

“You’re alright then? Thank you for what?”

“You always know what to say. Thank you for helping me.”

He patted her back and with surprising strength, lifted her from the ground and stood her up. “I’m always here for you pumpkin. Sometimes you just need an overdose of non-logic to get your brain to turn off for a bit.”

“That doesn’t exist, but thank you anyway. I know I have trouble listening sometimes.”

“It’s not a bad thing dear.”

“It can be.”

“You’re growing and know the difference now and when you need to stop analyzing. You’ll figure it out for yourself someday.”

“I love you daddy.”

“Love you too pumpkin.”

**GITLOH**

London was loud.

When you were walking down the sidewalk with no one to talk to, London was loud.

When you were trying to have a private conversation at a sidewalk cafe, London was loud.

When you were trying to cross a bloody intersection using only the sound of traffic patterns as your cue, London was bloody annoyingly loud.

Harry expressed this frustration to Carrol upon successfully locating the final corner of the day. His cane collided with a raised curb and he stepped up on to it, then began complaining to anyone who happened to be standing there about the injustice of unnecessary noise. Carrol, who had followed close behind him laughed.

“Don’t feel too bad, everyone feels that way once we get to intersections.”

“Yeah well it’s inconvenient. How did I not notice it before?”

“You weren’t trying to listen to exactly where cars were positioned and how they were moving.”

“It’s difficult enough when it’s quiet.”

“Here, let’s get in the car and we can head home.”

They turned right and followed the street, Harry nearly whacking his head on a low-hanging sign, and climbed in to Carrol’s car. Harry fastened the seatbelt and rested his head back as his instructor eased them out of their parking spot.

“So what do you do if it actually is too loud to hear the traffic properly?” he asked.

“Well, what do you think are your options? We discussed not crossing if you aren’t sure you’ll be safe.”

“You could try and find another intersection that will get you where you need to go. But chances are that will be loud as well, or take you too far out of your way. I’d say wait for it to calm down, but that too could take a while.”

“And what about asking for help?”

Harry grimaced. “Oh yeah. Sorry, i didn’t even think of it.”

“That’s not a bad thing, but I’ve noticed you don’t like doing it. Any particular reason?”

He couldn’t just tell her thad for much of his life adults had let him down repeatedly in awful situations. “I don’t know, maybe it’s a trust thing.”

“A lot of people are concerned about that, understandably.”

“I mean, people don’t know what to do, you know? We did it a while ago and the bloke just dragged me across the street by my shoulder. Yeah he meant well but I wanted to hit him.”

“Why do you think he did that?”

“Because he doesn’t understand what I can do. It’s obvious. But it doesn’t make it easier to deal with. I felt like a child or an idiot.”

“And…” she prompted.

“And he felt good about helping a blind kid across the road.”

“Exactly.”

“So bloody annoying.”

“Yes, it is. Most people have no clue just how much a person who is blind can do. Most people look terrified when someone with a cane is crossing a street because half of them wonder if the person even knows they are in a street, and the other half thinks they have no way of knowing where they are going or how to avoid cars.”

“Crossing with parallel traffic doesn’t help display that much.”

“Right. You are paying attention to a signal they might be unaware of, so as far as they know, you’re just wandering off in to the road.”

“But sometimes I am. I’ve messed up before.”

“And that’s the problem. No one can know other than maybe the expression on your face, whether you know what you are doing or are confused and lost.”

“Can I just wear a sign that says I’m blind but I know what I’m doing when I’m crossing a street?”

Carrol laughed. “Actually, some people do wear signs. Someone who is deaf-blind might wear something that says “If I am at a street corner, please help me cross.” since they can’t even hear the traffic. It isn’t extremely common, but that is where some people get the idea that anyone with a cane needs help getting across.”

“Do they really?”

“Some.”

“Must be hard.”

“It is, but just like yourself, someone who can neither hear nor see rises to the occasion and is just as functional as anyone else.”

“Outside perspectives are the problem all around then.”

“Yes. Education is as well. Schools should really do a better job of including this stuff in the curriculum. Problem is that most teachers don’t know either, so they have to get someone who does to teach the related lessons.”

“Is that what disability advocates do?”

“Sometimes.”

“Maybe I should do that for a job.”

“You very well could.”

Harry pondered that as they drove down more silent streets. Beside him, a faint impression of water rippling over pebbles stirred, soft and cool at the same time. Harry had started to sense Carrol a few days before, the impression of her, emblem, for lack of a better term, growing more defined the more time they spent together. He couldn’t hear water or anything, but just like Hermione’s fire, Harry just sensed it. Every person was clearly different. The few people he could sense like this were all very different, but in all of them, he felt an empathic connection. This he knew could prove to be invaluable. If Harry could start sensing the emotions of anyone around him it might become tiresome and distracting, but he could use it.

He was admittedly nervous about their afternoon. Once he and Carrol returned home, they would ask her to sign a form that would allow them to tell her about the magical world. Moody would of course be standing by, ready to obliviate her if it came to it. Harry didn’t want that to happen to her. He didn’t want Carrol to change in any way, but he was worried she would reject him. Even with her memory modified, could she possibly not want to see him again regardless? Already he had learned so much, and the thought of losing the opportunity, and the relationship with his instructor was frightening. This had to go well. So what could he do to make her interested rather than frightened? He was allowed to show her magic, but what would do the trick?

The opportunity to give this serious consideration came to an end as Carrol pulled in to the drive at the Grangers’ home. They made their way inside as usual, the burning warmth of Hermione’s fire waiting just inside the door. Harry embraced her, sensing the deep pool of Ruth’s presence beside the waving branches of Simon’s tree, as they sat in the living room.

“You ready love?” She asked in a whisper.

Harry gave her a squeeze before taking her by the hand. “Not much of a choice I suppose.”

They headed over to her parents and Harry spoke up before Carrol could say her farewells.

“Before you go, there’s something we’d like to talk to you about if that’s alright?”

“Of course.” They sat in their usual places, Carrol taking the third spot on the sofa on the other side of Harry. Hermione handed him a scroll which Harry laid on his lap before taking her hand again.

“Er, so, you work for the government, so I know you are familiar with confidentiality and such.” He started.

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, I know you’ve noticed that we haven’t been able to give much information about certain things in my life up until now. A lot of it is actually classified by the government. I got permission to share it with you, but it would require your signature. If you’re willing.”

He unrolled the document and handed it to Carrol who read it silently before saying, “Yes, I would be happy to sign this. I’m not aware of this particular branch of government however.”

Harry wasn’t sure exactly what would have been presented to her as a title, seeing as those not in the know would see whatever would make them likely to believe this was important and serious. “That’s alright. I can explain shortly, we all can. Are you sure you’d like to sign this, it isn’t a requirement.”

“As long as it does not interfere with my work, then I have no problem.” She took a pen from the table and added her signature to the parchment. Simon took it from her and said, “Alright then Harry, go for it.”

“So, the government keeps things secret to protect them right?”

“Usually.” Said Carrol.

“Yeah well, there’s a group of people they are protecting because those people are, sort of gifted.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. See, I didn’t go blind because of a chemical spill. I actually go to a school up in Scotland where I learn to use that gift.”

“I see.”

“Will you let me show you?”

"I would be a fool if I wasn’t interested by now.”

It was time, and Harry hadn’t come up with anything. Throwing around basic spells didn’t seem special enough. Maybe his patronus? That was always a bit more interesting than the norm. It seemed to impress people at least. Harry stood up and moved to the end of the sofa beside Hermione, still holding her hand in one of his. He took his wand from a pocket and held it up.

“There are a few dark creatures out there, I won’t go in to detail just yet because what someone like me can do is better than that. There is a way to keep one of these creatures away. It feeds on happiness and positive emotions. To keep it away, you project just that. Instead of letting it make you miserable, you think of everything that makes you happy.”

He smiled down at Hermione, her fire swelling as he did so. Yes, Hermione was rather special herself, as were his feelings for her. Happiness wasn’t enough, he needed something stronger.

“It’s magic you see, this gift. There’s good and bad, but I think that this is honestly one of the best parts of it.” He centered himself and pointed his wand to the side where there was an empty space beside the table in the center of the room. He focused on Hermione’s fire, on the love he felt for her, on how amazingly light she made him feel. No, he couldn’t show her how he felt the same way as he felt her, but there was another way to get close.

“This spell, creates a guardian in the form of an animal that blocks the creature and drives it away. It’s bright silver, so just be ready.”

The passion he felt for the beautiful woman holding his hand. The trust he held for her developed over years of trial and frustration. The sincerity, the love, the sensual need, the joy, the immovable bond they held. He pushed all that to the forefront of his mind, and said the words.

“Expecto Patronum.” He didn’t scream them, he just spoke them as if he were saying good night to Hermione. The spell rushed through him and those feelings he had held within suddenly emanated from something to his right. Magnified in to focus, separated from all other thoughts, Harry felt his love for Hermione from the outside, and knew something, a truth of the world.

He loved Hermione more than he knew.

When all thought and all distraction was removed from the raw fury that was his feelings for Hermione, everything was dwarfed. It was pure and strong and it made him want to bury his face in Hermione’s curls and breathe in the scent of her skin. He could never be close enough to her.

Very quickly however, Harry realized he’d done something wrong because amidst the burning love he felt from Hermione, there was a quick flare of anger, squashed as soon as it appeared. Yes, he was in trouble. They would be talking about that soon for sure.

He let the patronus fade and heard an unanimous intake of breath.

“Oh my.” said Carrol.

“Yeah,” said Simon, “basically magic is great and all because the kids get to make sparkly creatures that make you feel all lovey dovey inside.”

“Both of you?”

“Yes, Hermione’s a witch and I’m a wizard.” Harry answered as he sat between Carrol and a Hermione who was holding his hand with a very limp one of her own.

Trouble.

It was further confirmed when Ruth said, “Actually, why don’t Simon and I chat with Carrol. You two have an assignment to finish before we see the headmaster again tomorrow, correct?”

Shite.

Hermione released his hand and they bade farewell to Carrol. Harry followed his girlfriend up the stairs and couldn’t help but hear a voice screaming, “Dead man walking!” Oh it probably wasn’t that serious, but they hadn’t had many rows just yet, so it was about time for him to get an earful.

A muttered privacy spell being placed upon his room after the door closed behind him told Harry that it wasn’t about to be a quiet row either. Hermione marched up to him and stopped inches away. The roaring heat of her fire was so mixed and intertwined with varying reactions that Harry didn’t know if she was going to yell at, kiss, or hit him. Maybe displaying your love for a room full of adults wasn’t the best way to gain your girlfriend’s affections.

**GITLOH**

Author's Note:

When I wrote Harry's letter to Hermione a couple of years ago, I thought it would simply sit forgotten in my filing system. Something drove me to write a little more and now, to have more than 300 people following the events of this story, well i must admit my surprise. To those of you who have marked this story as a favorite, thank you. To those who have reviewed, your words are well appreciated. Support of any kind, whether in a review, or a checked box that says you are interested is beyond helpful. To someone like myself who’s writing has always been, decried as unworthy, the support is a praise, a spark of encouragement. Thank you, I can not say it enough.

As of the writing of this chapter I have a solid idea where this story is going. Up until now I was just growing the tale. However, the final scenes have been outlined and I am more than happy with how this story will conclude. We have a ways to go yet; plenty of time for my writing to improve enough to do the ending justice.

Following, if anyone would like to suggest emblems for other characters in this story, please PM me or leave it in a review. I can't promise that I will use them, but if I do, you will be credited in the chapter notes. All the ones I have thus far are expressed in this chapter.

Elise


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